We camped down
the first night
in some old
caravan
sleeping bags
everywhere
outside Bruges
next morning
we wake up
all cramped up
and annoyed
where are our
tents meant to
be set up?
Dalya asks
the guide says
got held up
just rang them
be here soon
he tells her
have breakfast
in the bar
and wait there
so we do
8 of us
4 young males
and females
have coffee
and pancakes
and a smoke
what a joke
Dalya says
we walk out
together
walk about
the camp site
you're Benny?
She asks me
yes that's right
what a crowd
for camping
a mother
and daughter
some teacher
from Southend
some Yorkshire
girl loud mouth
and Aussie
and the guide
Dalya says
do we share
two a tent?
I ask her
same sexes
she replies
so I'm with
Yorkshire lass
I suppose
Aussie's yours
she tells me
the teacher's
with the guide
at the next
base camp place
I like her
her spirit
her tight curls
and dark hair
and small bust
we walk back
to the old
caravan
for our bags
and our stuff
keep with me
Dalya says
and we'll see
how it goes
at the next
camping site
and maybe
she whispers
we can share
a whole night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem