The slow walk back
Of the pace man
Makes me heart-quick.
A bat, a prod of the crease,
And I am hooked.
The ball tossed from hand
To hand
Then spun
Back.
He turns and runs
His easy stride slips across the grass
Close to the stumps
He bowls
And breaks my bats-man's heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem