White Beach - Poem by Nassy Fesharaki
"I, the rock, the stone…"
heard the wind; heard breeze
"…brush you; break gas
as dandelions in your hand."
And the talk went on with,
with the cold, rain, snow
in same way; on mountain.
At white beach sand conversed
with the sun, with the waves:
"Surrender! Let me rest…"
And cried under feet of a child:
"Once I was a stone…had head up,
inexpert, unaware, I was young…"
Talks went on; and went on
on both sides
young keeping the head up
old humbled and fallen by the age:
"I know now…know little."
Comments about White Beach by Nassy Fesharaki
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.