The deep ocean is intense indigo.
There is a sleepy feeling that it casts.
In its stillness there is not an echo.
Sky and water are losing their contrasts.
Rhythmic song of water against the ship,
Makes my eyes close. I feel the summer breeze.
I can taste the salt on my lower lip,
While the gentle rocking puts me at ease.
The sails no longer search for any wind,
While seagulls are not to be seen or heard.
The moment appears so undisciplined,
As if not a thing is to be disturbed.
The orange sun now nearly out of sight,
Quietly kisses the ocean good night.
The Lovers, Pierre-Auguste Renoir (1875)
Love’s Summer Day
The soft summer breeze wrestles with the leaves
Putting at ease our thoughts with its perfume
Discomfort of our stresses it relieves
Its natural elation we consume
Eager business of the dapple sunlight
Moves about like fluttering butterflies
Pausing for a moment then taking flight
Any attempt of capture it defies
Listen to the summer songs of the birds
Their melody provides such great pleasure
We smile searching for the suitable words
Their golden voices are living treasure
Time passes as the trees shadows grow long
Is now the nightingale who sings its song