These are the fields, bushes and trees
where a boy cried heartbroken
in a far off summer,
when the bull
swiped his darling filly
with its horns
while she was drinking
at the trough
and that horse fell twitching
on her back
with her guts ripped out
and she had to be shot
and his older brother
brought the.303 rifle
with only one bullet
and was determined
to take the shot,
but the filly moved her head
and the bullet when up her nose
and there was blood everywhere
while she neighed in pain
and he ran as fast as he could
while weeping
to get some more bullets
and without a word
took the rifle from his older brother
put a bullet in the slot and cocked it
brought the firearm to his shoulder
and took a deep breath
before squeezing the trigger.
His favourite horse was slain
and the pain was great
and almost unbearable for him
and his brother tried to comfort
but there wasnt anything
that he could do or say
to take that pain away.
I see flames coming out of a Ratel IFV
and how smoke vapours rises from it,
while its shot out
where its captured by a minefield.
Bleeding and burning comrades die
and their names and faces,
are burnt into my mind.
Even if I rise my eyes
to the heaven
I still cannot understand
till this day,
why some had to pay
such an expensive price
and precisely what their lives bought.
Its something to die in honour,
but another thing to life
in a country
The past winter had come
with black ripe
and had turned the green grass,
even the flowers into dead,
yellow withered things
but now in this early spring,
rain was showering the earth
with thousands of kisses,
bringing back life
and the sweet smell
drifted up from the wet sand
as if something great
had come forth
out of the creators hand
and later a rainbow
with brilliant colours
stretched from horizon to horizon
against the dark black clouds
while in the distance
lightning bolts were crashing down
one after another
and in my imagination
I could already see
tender shoots sprouting.
In the garden we sat watching the stars,
talking softly, intimately while she smoked
and the cigarette glowed red
with her perfume and its flavour
mixing on the evening air
and around us there were flowers
opening everywhere
and some had large cups, others hanged
with petals in strings
in different hues from white, pink,
red to crimson, violet and blue.
There is a flower (whose name I know)
who showed me the most beautiful petals
and bloomed one night
in a bed besides me
in sheer nudity
with perfection in ever aspect of her body
while the full moon rose almost silver white
on a cloudless night
she was soft, firm and tender
and her lips sweet and hot
and I could not resist her,
the intimacy, the tenderness
and the love that she brought.
