they came to the playing field
by the sea in waves they came,
this joyful host, of guides and scouts
these fizzing lives breathing blue above
and green below, the redding sun
eeking out its evening loan
and inbetween tufts of squeals, I hoist
a bright boat sail to slap the wind,
a young mind, pausing to look
may play this slowed cinema scene
undimmed, even in the shaking years,
and fashion from this a compass, this
crimson shout
make of the world a seed, for
unhoisted, all dreams come to nowt
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem