Sun-worshipper, of late sanctified
By frothing of baptismal sea -
Its time to fold up the piety.
Beach towl. Picnic's ceremony.
I, too, with your cult's insistence
On leisure quests rode along.
As his was but a torch, summer-long
Daily led us out, dawn-strong.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem