The bright morning light
Is ascending like a movie set being prepared.
The sand is a strip of powder sugar,
As my feet are quickly sunk into the soft
Pale surface
I soon grab my surfboard, and I begin to stream
Through the waters, icy as a Siberian winter,
Through the waves, which roll and crash into the water.

Soon, I turn, looking at the horizon of the beach and the island.
It is a dark silhouette in the orange-red sky.
I catch a wave, swift as a fly,
And suddenly, I find my self gliding along with the wave.
After a long struggle, I rise upon the board
And began to drive through the blue.