The bright red sun sinks,
solemnly closing the curtain on another day
blurring the line between sky and sea,
in bathes in color its final golden scene
A young man, the breeze of May blowing over him,
stands like an iris
staring straight ahead
at that distant semicircle
See breeze rumpling his hair
what is he pondering so deeply?
Is he fashioning some philosophy of his own
by which to live in the future?
Is he conversing with a friend in a far-off land?
In the roar of the sea with its white waves breaking
does he seek the strength to face tomorrow?
Is he waiting to converse
with his love in the coral islands?
On the fiery sea
quietly one dot of white sail drifts
