Slowly the boy came over and wakes:
The sun rains, shines and the ocean wave sleep
On this piece of paradise on the edge of yesterday.
the horizon, not vague or veil. It is here
Like a golden shell, pearl, sea
lips it touches the water, brrr, it is bitter,
Like a taste vacation end there.
After her cold hand, mom is still asleep,
Long hair and wet, his face hard,
A laurel wreath encircled her forehead.
As a nod to their fate plied here,
life leaves them little by little, far from any port,
sinking of a ship from sinking.
Casablanca, August 2010
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