The seagulls squawk over the cliffs
The waves end like white foam at their feet
The sea is an iridescent mantle shimmering under the setting sun
Bronco, unfathomable and in perpetual motion
I contemplate it from my dimly lit room
In the distance a boat is blurred with the mist
Slowly smoking a cigarette I feel the sea talking, roaring, singing
sometimes it scares and sometimes it lulls
A melody that is lost in the beginning of time
The leaden sky announces a fine drizzle
I'll go for a walk on the beach
And the rain and the drops of the sea
Will placate this infinite sadness that sometimes assaults me
And then I'll go back to finish writing a poem