These walls have the pounding of hearts young and old
Sighs of longing echo past the windows
Breathing in humming beetles and rain
And out lost dreams and illusions
They nestle delicate children's skins
Gently sleeping away their innocence
And the pungent smell of slaughtered lambs
Passions and anger enmesh deep in its bowels
The open roof stares at mighty thunder and quiet stars
Chatter of bygone voices rattles through the doors
Layered in the chimney's ashes
There are still smouldering spews of rage
And mottled stew of freshly cooked potjie
Merry figures dance the sakkie-sakkie, others sing
Musky scents of ripe female busts and amorous men
All through the house old existences intertwine
These walls are pregnant with conspicuous pieces
Of bricks and lives trapped in eternity.
Alex Fan Moniz
'Colours of South Africa' 2013
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful and passionate poem. Walls holds a lot of secrets, memories, rage, passions, etc. Yet it allows us to want to go beyond and seek outside sources. Loved this.