The tar road lays open under the burning sun
and the house is far over the hillocks
my feet are sore while the tar glows
with the sky stretching out blue to all sides.
As a young child there is meaning
in thing what other people might miss
and my hair at times do flutter in the wind
but about flowers I do have some knowledge.
In a short sleeve shirt and pants as a mere child
I am blinded by the bright hot light
as if Your summer hangs great over me
while I am trying to find my way home
and it’s as if I am already longing
for Your safety and nothing does frighten me.
[Reference: “Dit brand my voete” (It burns my feet) by N.P. van Wyk Louw.]