The Jackal-Buzzard (1) Poem by Gert Strydom
The Jackal-Buzzard (1)
When the jackal-buzzard
does come here and sit in a tree,
haughty does look down
and continually does cry out to me
then I wonder what he is saying
and if he brings a message from a pretty girl
out of Russia
or does tell of his flight over the Baikal Lake
with its green islands
and early every morning he comes to greet me
as if he does suspect that I do not understand his message.
© Gert Strydom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/28/2024 5:54:21 PM # 1.0.0.1119
