My sandals walked away, leaving me restless far away at home. Moving away from being looked at which only gave me dull dreams. A glimpse of the waves came, wetting my feet. The first time, together on the shore. Silence, a few storks leaving the shore. What is most eternal about poetry. Of course this timeless silence. Even the roar of the waves hit the mangrove roots Foaming in the water, it's still quiet People say, just go to the beach Talk for a moment with the silent sea So it won't answer all the questions It's okay, it won't be able to Spit out curses On the beach Solop is sloping I'm quiet, people silent, closed his eyes, blocking the wind from the sea. He whispered, "I'll take your pain away, Madam, come home with a slightly bland aftertaste."
Language of the sea, language of the beach
We are not good at translating
No one understands the meaning of his silence
But, people never get tired of coming
When you like it, you have already stoned your chest
The pain is unbearable, no ears are ready
So it spills into the sea
It will not be in vain
Just a gust of wind, taken away
Back as a peaceful silence
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