Ode to Aotearoa The sea rises
Above the morning mist,
As sailboats meet the trading winds
To lead them home; past shores
Of black sands and blowholes,
And the luscious green of kauri and stone.
These are the southern waters,
Pulling both man and siren,
To the golden and turquoise bays,
Amongst the spray of gentle giants
And the sweep of rolling hills.
For it knows of beauty
In the faces and tongues;
And the black ink written
On the maroon skin, and ancestral stories
Of glaciers and vast wetlands
Woven by the hands of gods.
It gives a light so bright it never leaves you,
Not even half the world away,
When all around is dark and grey.
And you are still dreaming of the first sunrise
In the crimson sky, when everything was so full of life,
In this land of the long white cloud.
Janete Cabral Copyright 2008
24/02/08
The sea rises
Above the morning mist,
As sailboats meet the trading winds
To lead them home; past shores
Of black sands and blowholes,
And the luscious green of kauri and stone.
These are the southern waters,
Pulling both man and siren,
To the golden and turquoise bays,
Amongst the spray of gentle giants
And the sweep of rolling hills.
For it knows of beauty
In the faces and tongues;
And the black ink written
On the maroon skin, and ancestral stories
Of glaciers and vast wetlands
Woven by the hands of gods.
It gives a light so bright it never leaves you,
Not even half the world away,
When all around is dark and grey.
And you are still dreaming of the first sunrise
In the crimson sky, when everything was so full of life,
In this land of the long white cloud.
Janete Cabral Copyright 2008
24/02/08