XIX
Northern
June
I thought that for one whole day
I hadn’t strayed to think
of you: the float of the world would not,
could not, would not, sink:
now the merle sings four-in-the-morning
where I wait above the city
in a while the crow wil come
and announce the day.
N. P. van Wyk Louw, Tristia
[Translated by Johann de Lange]
