In the cooling shade 
of the sea shore pines
near to the pebble beach, 
you had a flash of insight, 
your Moksha in Makarska.
A word the ancient Hindus used 
for 'sudden revelation', 
after years of ardent study, 
a glimpse of the Eternal, 
of truth filled comprehension.
Countless lives you have spent, 
overturning countless stones, 
shouldering disappointment's rocks 
when answers failed to issue.
Of we two, I am the more fortunate, 
perhaps more simple in my wants, 
I only ever need the sea, 
with its deep, abiding counsel, 
pregnant with the threat of power.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    