Morning poem
This morning, sky and sea had the color shiny grey and I could see forever and saw a man and his son on the deck of a big ship, eating prunes because it was good for digesting heavy food. In my childhood prunes a rare fruit was served at Christmas for the same reason, but only in America could one get hamburgers, as told by seafarers who had seen the bright lights at a place called Broadway.
The sky shifted color to everyday grey, it began raining and the morning show was over
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem