We sat on the beach.
Backs tucked into hollows.
Scooped out of the peaked dunes.
The fire we had built flickered
And drew our eyes into its depths.
Sparks escaped from resinous pine
And leapt like twisting fireflies
Into the approaching dark.
The sea whispered toward our feet
To leave ribbons of lacy foam.
We gazed across the bay.
Watched seagulls search for rest.
The end of the day trailed its skirts
Of pink and blue and mauve.
Then fell slowly, pooled in gold,
Over the dark horizon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is really good. Reminds me of sitting by campfires both as a Boy Scout years ago and also with my children and grandchildren in more recent years. Very well written. I am voting it a ten.