The old brown creek it winds it's way down
Through the flat and dry paddocks and by many a country town
On towards the big river to the sea far away
It never stops babbling by night or by day
Flowing milleniums before the dinosaur time
It has been the inspiration of story and rhyme
It was very old when the first people came
And they used to know it by another name
On warm Summer evenings by the old creek in the shade of the trees
The daughters and sons of the dreamtime people had their corroborees
Though nowadays one does hear the calling of cockatoo
No distinctive sound of a didgeridoo
The old creek from the foothills will flow on forever more
To the river that flows to the great ocean shore
The centuries come and the centuries go
But time to the creek it is never a foe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love literature about Australia and you set me down in that scenery and that environment and I love it as if I had once lived there. Wide open spaces I imagine, all ours has disappeared under expanding cities. 10+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++