Magnolia

Binnekort gaan die magnoliaknoppe
hulle sluiers soos Oosterse bruide oopgooi
en soos die volmaan maagdelikwit
hulself ontbloot;

—laat elke bruidegom wat 'n oog het sien;
laat elke beminde wat 'n neus het ruik;
laat elke minnaar wat 'n mond het proe—

binnekort is dit magnolia-tyd.

Soon the magnolia buds will
throw their veils to the wind like Oriental brides
and expose themselves
like the full moon, virgin white;

—every bridegroom that has an ear, let him hear;
every beloved that has a nose, let him smell;
every lover that has a mouth, let him taste—

it will be magnolia season soon.

... Sanko Lewis

the poet and his cat
   draped over his shoulder like a river
in the autumn sun sat
waiting for the current of inspiration

and it came
falling like leaves
that the poet saw, but didn't see

the cat concurred
and purred

Vakmanskap / Craftmanship

Vakmanskap

My geliefde vriend,

Ek wil so graag vir jou 'n gedig beeldhou,
maar die klei gly my vingers ongevorm verby,
die beitel skram etsloos teen die marmer wang.

Ek weet goed hoe om 'n vrou se vorm te vou—
my kunstenaarsoog is wel bekend met haar gekruinde lyne,
my skrywerstong ken haar valleie en haar duine.

Maar jy, my vriend, los my woordeloos.
Wie gaan my hierdie vakmanskap leer?
Hoe skryf ek die liefde van 'n mansvriend neer?

Craftsmanship 

My beloved friend,

I so want to sculpt you a poem,
but the clay slips pass my fingers unimpressed,
the chisel ricochets etchless from the marble's cheek.  

I know well how to fold a woman's form—
my artist's eye is well informed with her curved lines,
my writer's tongue knows her dunes and ravines. 

But you, my friend, leaves me speechless.
Who will teach me this craftsmanship?
How do I scribe the love of male companionship?

... Sanko Lewis