The waves,
They come,
They go,
When have they,
Stood?
Lest they may have fallen,
In love with the beauty,
Of the rocks against which,
They stand, and seem to tell,
'I am waiting for you,
For progression and regression,
Are my lives, and here,
You make me stand in awe.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem