Poezja

I smell the fragrance of the falling rain
hear how startled the wild horses snort,
see the dust-line of the wild wind savagely
blowing sand and leaves
and hear and there it turns lingering
when thunderbolt after thunderbolt blue-white crushes down
 
and I see swallows circling against the dark sky,
hear turtledoves singing praises to God
and in the veldt the joy is wide
over the rain that brings new life.