Tennis

 

Under a tropical sun the court is

Full of the smell of smoke from ricefields burning.

My opponent is dressed in white.

She has brown skin.

Her arm is bent, racquet lifted; her body,

Full of force, like a dancer,

Muscles

Feeling motion,

Motionless.

Forever and ever she is beautiful!

The sky — the sun!

All of us: beautiful!

Forever and ever.

 

January 8, 1975