Gert Strydom, 12 czerwca 2014
I am searching for a beautiful little cottage at the ocean,
for a place where at times a person can stand still
and behold the miracles of the Lord,
where waves continually break with brute force,
somewhere far away where the sky is blue
where I can rest in my years of old age,
a place that both my wife and I will love
even when the storms with the worst winds do come.
I am searching for a place where visitors are always welcome
even when they are unknown and lost,
where there is a place of rest in the wide world,
where the hurting experience of each day
grows faint and undone,
even when the floods of life do stream down.
Gert Strydom, 12 czerwca 2014
It’s silent right through the house at daybreak
and only the songs of the birds comes through the windows
but we are closed to the outside
when the sun only peeps with its head over the horizon,
later just here and there breaks through the clouds,
our lives are tied to earlier decisions
and in the distance there are dots of boats,
the beauty of the coastal region
and a ray of sun falls over your face,
the wind rustles through the curtain and whispers
as if it’s bringing a love song to you
and I see a small vein beating against your neck,
the room is still dark with twilight
and eternally I want to save this moment.
Gert Strydom, 12 czerwca 2014
When the moon hangs yellow-gold in the darkness
Ghoeroe will awake
and Ghaisa the rain-leopard will afraid
sneak out when the first drops pour down
and Ghoeroe the hippopotamus-bull will make the clouds thunder
while Ghaisa jumps away to far under
where flames lash out white-blue over the ridge
when we smell the rain in the wet sand.
Gert Strydom, 11 czerwca 2014
I smell the fragrance of the falling rain
hear how startled the wild horses snort,
see the dust-line of the wild wind savagely
blowing sand and leaves
and hear and there it turns lingering
when thunderbolt after thunderbolt blue-white crushes down
and I see swallows circling against the dark sky,
hear turtledoves singing praises to God
and in the veldt the joy is wide
over the rain that brings new life.
Gert Strydom, 11 czerwca 2014
Every morning her windows are washed clean
and they reflect the garden
in bright pieces of glass
and even the clouds disappearing in the distance.
Gardenia, jasmine and pomegranate
reflect the colours, the beauty
of her lovely face
and every sunny day
you will find her with fingers in the ground
when she prays for the first spring rain to come
as she is a nature child
and around her lawns of green grass dazzle.
She has caught a small world in her hands
and a straw-hat against the sun hangs low against her eyes.
Gert Strydom, 10 czerwca 2014
There is a seashell that on a time I want to give to you
wherein you can continually find the presence of the sea,
and it’s something with the echo of the sea
and it roars on sunny days and during the stormy wind
and I wish that just like this
I could hold you to my ear
while we are apart from each other
and can feel how your arms embracing me.
Gert Strydom, 10 czerwca 2014
At the robot light I see a child
in dirty clothes and his hair blown by the wind,
his cheek is swollen from toothache
and where he is begging I wonder if he is going to find any help?
The old man near to the bridge has lost his job
at the Aurora goldmine
and he is grey but his arms looks strong
and I wonder what kind of hope he has?
At another place an old lady is standing and she tells about her daughter,
that she is suddenly pregnant
and she is confesses sing about her own life
where she is counting the few coins that she gets from people
and I look at a world that is falling apart
with jobless poor strugglers almost without number
and how long I ask the God of the universe
when pistol shots ring out down at the Checkers chain store.
Gert Strydom, 9 czerwca 2014
At times I wonder where her thoughts go
if of my loving, caring and commitment
she really truly knows
or is there a kind of excitement,
in lashing out pain and verbal blows
and then when I am broken and spent,
she carries on as if nothing has happened while my tears flow
and yet our feelings are brighter
than all the stars set in the skies
my love is much more pure and whiter
than any new pluck lily or rose
and I wonder if she knows
about my silent cries,
when she brings pain to our goodbyes?
Gert Strydom, 9 czerwca 2014
In the morning when I draw my eyes to slits against the bright light
there is magic
that the new morning brings
while I know that I am really living
and I see the butterflies already fluttering on the breeze,
hear birds of which the songs of joy penetrates the soul
and every bee, even the smallest thing
are busy with a praise song.
When dew on the branches are still shining like diamonds
and the sun glitters with every ray in filigree
there are flowers opening their cups
and even though my life at times feels bitter
and this kind of living feels like only a curtailed existence
I do know that I serve an omnipotent God.
Gert Strydom, 9 czerwca 2014
Where you stand with the garden hose
a seed plume whirls
all around us on the afternoon breeze
and it waits hanging for moments,
bright water shoots through your thumb
and I wonder how many days do remain
to be so perfect when we are together?
Regulamin | Polityka prywatności
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