All the Way to Canada

I am sitting at the shore of Kınalı*. The Marmara Sea opens—serene and blue— I fling a rock into the sea. I pitch the rock—rings float on the Marmara— I pitch the rock—new rings form And link with the old. One side of the loop faces me—the other extends To the far away horizon. I cling tightly onto the sun-kissed arch, Which spreads in rows, And since I need n