Along vast beaches the rippling tides
to strong stone promenades duly proceed.
Taking with them pre-washed shingle that glides,
in a to-and-fro act of endless speed.
The sea bombards the shore, hour by hour,
churning up polished granules in its wake.
Myriads of grains feeling its power,
pile thus against a high concrete windbreak.
Forces within the waves, one cannot quell,
no one can calm the waters constant flow.
It is an endlessly repeated swell,
like music in ‘moto perpetuo’.
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