Sumertime, but not for me
How I wish that these lines meant my day
Summertime,
And the livin' is easy
But no, 12 hours of long tiresome meetings, without a real result and all I can do is watch as the night sets in how teenagers spend their summertime on the beach. The best to describe the image is a poem from Nichita Stanescu, enjoy!
This sea is covered with adolescents
learning to walk on waves, upright,
sometimes resting their arms on the currents,
sometimes gripping a stiff beam of sunlight.
I lie on the broad beach, an angled shape, cut perfectly,
and I ponder them like travelers landing.
An infinite fleet of yawls. I wait to see
a false step, or at least a grounding
up to knee in the diaphanous swell
beneath their measured progress, sounding.
But they are slim and calm - as well,
they've learned to walk on waves - and standing.