He walked from one end of the beach to the other, bright
in the glory of the sun and of his youth. Every so often he’d jump
  in the sea
making his skin shine – gold, the colour of clay. Whispers of
  admiration followed him,
from men and women. A few feet behind him came
a young girl from the village, carrying his clothes devoutly,
always at some distance – she wouldn’t lift her eyes to look at him
 – a little angry
and happy in her devout concentration. One day they quarreled
and he forbade her to carry his clothes. She
threw them on the sand – she only held on to his sandals;
she put them under her armpits and disappeared running,
leaving behind her in the sun’s heat a small, an awkward little
  cloud from her bare feet.

Yannis Kitsos