The boy walks past the window;
you can see he's
got something clearly in his mind;
walks firmly on both feet as if
he walked on grass;
his carriage upright,
a half-smile on his face;
his eyes are bright;
he swings his hands from side to side
in front of him.
He has a vision.
Ah yes.
His captain's just tossed the ball to him;
it's his spell to bowl.
This is what he was born to do;
he has the skills;
he knows he can do it; can't wait; but
no hurry, as he's confident,
switching the ball from hand to hand,
warming it with his love.
The boy walks past the window.
He has a vision.
This poem is very different from your usual fare. It's literal and spare, with only a couple of adjectives in the whole poem. Interesting subject matter and very nice flow. Your versatility is impressive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This last two days, the media have been full of 'these last nail-biting weeks of swashbuckling cricket will bring a new generation of boys to the game...' and you think mmm, maybe.. and then, there it is in front of you...