(for CAR, No. 6 in the cycle Fados de Corona)

Strolled I along a distant beach
Knew I the sun I could not reach
I could not fly, nor could I swim.
But walk I could, below the tide.

Like the shell the wandering crustacean saves
Would I too Iie, beneath the waves
`till that isle’s shore it softly kissed
in that magic sea, my boat would ride,

On that magic isle in a magic sea,
that magic isle, where dwelleth thee
a child with child, both maidens fair,
in volcanic earth, shared heaven’s air.

• See No. 5 here

Dr T.P. Wilkinson writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is also the author of Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..