Navigation auf uzh.ch
Navigation auf uzh.ch
| 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 | The river roars as it flows restlessly to destinations unknown the river pierces the limitless expanse and like the heavenly ball it rolls along endlessly above its angry ripples softly the pristine wind whispers fills the present with sweet peaceful fragrance the sonorous sound of its flow beats ceaselessly on the banks its force gathers dead leaves and mud on the bank a lonely stone rests boldly in defiance of solitude forgotten and forsaken by time almost forsaken by space it seems suspended in a void of mud and water of forgetfulness this ceaseless flow of the river brings lost memories of forgotten times when children innocently bathed naked bodies in those clear, cold waters when canoes slipped effortlessly by on their continuous search for food and revelry when mothers washed their suckling babes villagers fetched the vitalising elements of this overflowing river and washerwomen purged their clothings of their muddied states now the river is no river it has disappeared a black abyss of dirty space supplants the beautiful and strong river snares which trap the weary unprotected unsuspecting beasts wandering lazily snares of beasts and men this river once the bounty giver now dead and empty lies dreadfully its monumental mouth ready to receive a thing line of cold water drips steadily from a high steep rock the river we once knew the river we once feared the river we once worshipped is no more |
Khasu, Kona. “Dead Days at the Waterside.” The Seeds of Time: A Collection of Poems. Mimeographed typescript. Monrovia, 1971. 35–36.
| Line | Typescript | Changed to |
| 8 | fills the presence with sweet peacful frangrance | fills the present with sweet peaceful fragrance |
