Poetry

I want to go to the high-veldt,
I want to look up into the pale-blue sky,
stand next to the green hillocks
 
and I want to walk on the red sand
when the stormy weather rises
and barefoot leave my tracks there,
 
I want to raise my eyes to the heavenly lights,
and at night look at the bright stars.
I want to go to the high-veldt,
 
leave marks that betray my presence,
see the blue-white sparks jump
when the stormy weather rises,
 
smell the falling rain,
see how the wet ground looks,
stand next to the green hillocks
 
where nature pays homage to the Creator
and I want to experience the world of my childhood days,
see the blue-white sparks jump
 
and fold my hand around beautiful stones
and like marbles stroke over them.
I want to go to the high-veldt,
 
leave no place unvisited on my hike,
find all of the old secret places again
and I want to experience the world of my childhood days,
 
follow the sun on its bright white orbit,
to where the most distant horizon is,
stand next to the green hillocks
 
and blinded in the eyes of a child
live out moments of my childhood days again,
find all of the old secret places,
 
just walking on and on
without diverting from the old footpaths.
I want to go to the high-veldt,
stand next to the green hillocks,
 
for moments be woven back into the fabric of time
and I want to walk on the red sand,
live out moments of my childhood days again
and barefoot leave my tracks there.