They go to the sea for rest
To lift the tension of weekdays
Away from work and their own house
With allowances for enemies and best friends.

To stir the feeble, to calm the tired,
For children to run about, for the old to sit,
To encourage the ashamed,
To dampen the fire in the overly bright.

Waves, as mediators
Between water and dry land,
Of course, with heaven’s participation,
Will take the unnecessary,
Give the necessary,
I accept as is, I force nothing —
They will cleanse me and remember you.