(for Daleen)
Alone I do awake
in the dark morning-hour
while the darkness does change to blue,
the morning star is still hanging bright,
thinly the moon knives up
and the world outside
is still strange to me,
the sun hangs in a red ball
as if from the hand of God
before it appears aflame through the windows
and the day is becoming brighter.
Outside bees buzz, butterflies flutter,
the black-collard barbet, yellow weavers do frolic
and part of the cobalt sky
are blotched out by clouds
that here and there does cloak white
and I do love you
as if this is the very first day of being human,
as if you have just come out of the hand of God.
© Gert Strydom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem