There the river is bridged,
meandering place to place is bounded,
a road cuts right across the mountain’s back
and when in the evening you find a tired traveller
he has stopped at a place
where the sea to the furthest horizon
stretches to the heaven
and there are lorries crawling up the hill,
the town lies beneath sparkling like stars
with lights everywhere shining
where people from near and far
at times find a resting place
even the old black man riding past on his bicycle,
or the braggart that cuts through the mountain pass with his grand car.
[Reference: “hier breek die dorp die pad se rug” (here the town breaks the road’s back) by fanie olivier.]
Gert Strydom
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/there-the-river-is-bridged-in-answer-to-fanie-olivier/
