the sky sunk low to the sea
wet towels slapping in the wind
young bathers
sea-eyed and water-faced
with chipped front teeth
sinews taut under young skin...
and the ebb
that makes stones drift
bewtween a child`´s thighs
down the beach
down the beach
running into the dilute
a salt step crying
footprints lived short
as if just lost
shouts stolen by the wind;
time to go.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem