Gold leaf passing over an eel in the shallowest
Estuaries of a washboard sea:
Looking up and studying the moon: its eyes mother of
Pearl,
As round and thoughtless as feral boys:
Swimming to and fro to the bleeding lap:
A sea so full of thoughts of salt that the animals in it
Never need to shed a tear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem