One after another, hard-pressed waves
Curl in their green motion
And hiss white foam into
The brownness of sea shores.

Leisurely clouds one after another
Break open their round motion
And sun burns the air space
Between the scanty clouds.

Indifferent to me, as I to her,
This fair day's disposition
Takes little from my sense
Of time evaporating.

Only a vague inconsequential ache
Halts a moment at the portal of my soul
And, after staring briefly at me,
Passes on, smiling at nothing.