When the last double school bus
did leave for Melville in a cloud of smoke
while the children were happy
as it was almost holiday
the bus did loose the road,
did fly with a bow through the air
before it landed in Westdene dam
with water splashing up on both sides
where immediately it did sink,
two windows are broken
with children struggling bulging out
but forty-two are trapped fatally
without any choice become part of the lake
and the laughter of moments before,
dreams, ideals, their humanity
are taken from them
while the deadly cold water
do fold around them,
when they view the fright, the incomprehension and struggle
the faces of each other
as awkwardly the driver did make a terrible mistake.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem