Seated on cold hard wood
Sitting there on the beach
As the waves of the Med rolled in
Rolled in under a cold breeze
Images of centuries old
Those ancient days when men
From Napoleon to Caesar
They landed on these beaches
In the background vehicle horns
Skywards rocketing buildings
Light spilling stark over in cold air
No more searching beam in sight
The Great Lighthouse long ruined
Only the ghosts to lead us forward
Cold wind by night and there I was
On the shores of Alexandria
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem