Always late, cutting rope untied
a vast ocean bullocks, fore, aft.
They block my horizon, moved by
smallness, motions foe will gain.
Today, I ride with the shark, as it
swims while the monsters sleep
mountains of waves wash over us.
Moving, to avoid the smile wasted
on the other, flashed in white teeth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem