‘tis an obsession, for the guys and girls of boards
autonomous sport
contesting with the sea.
As breakers wail 
the sun can scarcely blink this day
from behind 
billowing skies of voltage clouds.
Lighting clusters 
in spiderweb pattern
as wind begins to rage
its then when passion for the storm
erupts in the guys and girls of boards
and they begin to play.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                     
                
Splendid imagery! Well composed.