Now that the sea is calm and the waves much smaller
with a little boat we could row.
Now that the rain has stopped and the wind died out
along the ravine we could walk.
But the sea washes ashore dead fish
and the mountains have been sold
the picture that comes to life
breaks me every time.
When I’m high on the hill and follow the road to the beach
I recall the sense of the water and hope that our tree still exists.