You can see him all the time
During day hours
Shuffling about on the Marina sand,
He is an aged crab
Now grown weak and tired
Unable to dig and hide in the sand.
He does not ask the sea to take him
For he cannot drown;
He does not wait to be picked
By the kite who cannot see him.
Once I did ask him if I could be of help,
I tried,
I could not convince,
He did not understand me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem