I've lain with her this year in the sand,
Again,
And pledged my life for that moment,
Warm, clear breath, deep,
And so dear.
Though she is never easy,
Nor can I predict her,
Darkness often prevails,
And she makes me pay,
For weeks.
Rages to make us cringe,
Knock a man over only to laugh,
Driven mad by her scream,
No let up or rest,
And then remorse.
Never pity her cries,
Indulgent in the extreme,
Flooding into pools,
All I feel is betrayal,
Until with that Summer breeze,
She tempts me back.
(2004, Arisaig)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem