The year was 1953, the night was Christmas eve
People were rejoicing, going home on annual leave
The night train from Auckland, with a full head of steam
South bound, for Wellington, it seemed like just a dream
When it approached Waiuru, beside the desert road
From Mt' Ruapehu's bowel's , volcanic ashes flowed
The most active of three volcano's, its crater lake collapsed
Cascading down the mountainside, as local people gasped
The Tangiwai bridge was in its path, the lahar was moving fast
Rails and stanchions twisted, the bridges life had past
The train driver completely unaware, kept his steady speed
Till he saw a man with a lantern, imploring him to heed
The brakes squealed in that instant, but the momentum was to great
It careered into the river, five carriages to late
One hundred and thirty one people passed away that night
Twenty are still missing, presumed buried at the site
Today the crater lake is swelling to the size that was on par
Will they drain the lake? or risk another lahar?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem