It was in a world of fair-weather fog
the islands out there had gone
and soft small waves came back and forth to shore,
they hardly wanted to break.
We two alone on the foreshore
waded quietly out
and began to play with the cool wavelets quietly,
yes, with the whole unspoiled world
that God had made in the first days.
-- Christian Matras (translated from the Faroese by George Johnston)