The blue-green wave rears up,
Met by the oncoming foamy surge.
They crash and break together with a spray of white.
The wave bounds forward,
Only to smack the cold, hard wall.
With a shower of ice-white foam and glassy water,
It retreats, churning the sand in anger,
To strike another wave and be reborn in the next.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem