Newsletter / Blog 2016-05-09 The Dance of the Rain -Eugene Marais The Dance of the RainOh, the dance of our Sister!
First, over the hilltop she peeps stealthily and her eyes are shy and she laughs softly From afar she begs with her one hand her wrist-bands shimmering and her bead-work sparkling softly she calls She tells the wind about the dance and she invites it, because the yard is spacious and the wedding large The big game rush about the plains they gather on the hilltop their nostrils flared-up and they swallow the wind and they crouch to see her tracks in the sand The small game, deep down under the floor, hear the rhythm of her feet and they creep, come closer and sing softly “Our Sister! Our Sister! You’ve come! You’ve come!” and her bead-work shake, and her copper wrist-bands shine in the disappearance of the sun On her forehead, rests the eagle’s plume She decends down from the hilltop She spreads her ashened cloak with both arms the breath of the wind disappears Oh, the dance of our Sister! |
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