POETRY
REVERIE
OFTEN I shall long to go
Where the water buffalo Resting quiet stands beside Fresh sown rice fields wet and wide.
There below the hill-side sleep Fields of water, banks that keep Blades of green that soon will spring Through the water glistening.
Fields of green; no tenderer hue Ever lay beneath the blue, Till the stealing months will bring Colour of the oriole's wing.
Virgin forests, range on range Never with the seasons change, Only rice fields' golden grain Comes and goes and springs again.
In my dreams they come and go Quiet great black buffalo, Water-fields, rice crops that spring Through that water glistening.
ELLA GUILLEMARD..