Poetry

There are many tracks on the ground,
enemies could be anywhere,
the spoor does the tracker astound,
he looks carefully here and there.

To me the tracks look all the same,
there are many tracks on the ground,
I do not know from where they came,
how enemies are to be found.

To the tracker it is renowned,
the way that it is set, its line
there are many tracks on the ground,
to me looking almost as mine.

We drink water under a tree
find a booby trap tightly bound
that almost is disposing me,
there are many tracks on the ground.