I know how he wrote
He wrote as if time had no tomorrow
And there were endless crossroads
To be lost
Passed over as if time travelled fast
And the car they were in was slow.
And the sheets are smooth
Satin he said
I’m yours.
Then ‘bang’ hit me hard
Ouch!
Teach you not to play with little boys.
Little girl.
On second thoughts, they said he was on the game
All the time
On second thoughts he said all those things himself
- However -
Travelling across the plains things were different –
Holidays bring freedom.
HJB '83
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A conglomeration of things that were said and not said and things that people did with and without me being present, which is the way with poetry.