One bright summer day
while walking in the veldt
I heard an eagle cry
where it swirled high
up in the sky, far beyond,
turning in a little speck
against the bottomless blue.
It drifted on secret winds
hanging, gliding
as if meant to be part of the sky.
Suddenly with great speed
it came down, came down
with paws and claws
stretched out to kill
and in dimensions it grew larger,
almost larger than life
just missing me,
grabbing the hare
that I did not notice
where it was hiding
a few paces away from me
and sometimes still
the beauty, the raw power, its flattening shadow
falls over me, in thoughts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem