(for Annelize)
Early morning the rain sieves down softly,
I do smell the wet earth,
notice the neighbour's car going into the street,
my cellular phone peeps a message the second time,
the pot in which the geraniums are flowering looks somewhat weathered
but it does not really get rain where it is standing outside,
in the distance a church bell does ring off six o'clock
and I do hardly notice the dove at the window
as in my thoughts I do smell your "panache" as if you are right here
where we were married and comfortable against each other
and to that distant Cape winter this weather does remind me
while outside the lights of cars do past one after the other in the thick fog
and still it feels where I am lying as if you do fit in the hollow of my arm
but the moment fades away as it is years past.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem