Coolbeggan in Autumn
The horizon turns red,
slowly a glowing ball appears,
but vanishes fast behind a grey-pink cloud.
No hunters, no cars,
the wind forecasts rain,
maybe that's why.
In a field two young calfs gambol,
one black, the other white,
apartheid out of the question.
Near the barrier a faraway text.
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Hans van den Bos [1948] |
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