This is an ancient place filled with whispering winds
Sunsets of fire, souls of fishes and spirits of dugongs.
It is wild and full of Quinkan mystery.
The souls of over 300 lay here
Taken by cyclone Mahina in 1899
It was this country s most disastrous blow
I am compelled by it, addicted to its beauty.
I have written so much about this place
And I haven't even scratched the surface.
Now they tell me I can go there no more.
Well I will be back there soon
If not in this life then sure enough in the next.
And watch out for me if you are there …in the evening
on the night wind…
Just stop.
Just wait.
Just listen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A cool breeze passed away touching touching leaves of dreaming trees And consoled the aggrieved waiting for the evening wind