the storm of my sea finally subsides
i am a chinese silk spread on the tranquility of the salty water
seagulls leave because there is no fish to hunt
and take upon their hungry beaks
i have no regret, i have finally seen the sun
across my whiter horizon
i see boats and nets spread on my surface
i am a very calm day
soon the children will come and play
throw balls on my white sands
fill this space with laughter and not one of them will ask
what a storm was, where there was a house here before but was
taken by the rage of the wind
gone,
the children have nothing to do with the past
they are not meant for that
an old man arrives with a grandson, being helped to sit on one of the chairs in the shore under a shade of a big old tree
he is the thinker of this storm this place
he knows everything, but he is silent as a dead leaf on his feet
he rests his head on a pillow puts his feet and hands in the fold
wears his dark sunglasses and stares at the far far horizon
i will join him when the sun finally sets, when the color of the horizon turns into orange and then black
as i turn off the light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem