On the rock the harried heron sits
a visible speck on a canvas
gazing at the sea
when a wrathful wave crashed against its fortress.
To the ledge, the heron tightly held
but is no match for the mighty hands
that encircled it
covering the wretch in its folds of foam,
carrying it deep and deeper into the wild sea.
On the rock a vestige sits
an invisible speck on a canvas.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem