RAIN-BIRD:

It´s your song I hear warbling, in the voice of ancient bones,

Echoing cool waters, running over bodies of desert stones,

I follow your sweet singing, searching clouds for gentle rain,

Knowing that when I find you, raindrops will slake my pain.

 

Every man & beast trains his ear, upon your distant voice,

Within the ancient & arid desert, nobody has the choice,

Following your sweet song, to where the clouds will burst,

Oh little bird of old omens, you are the saviour of our thirst.

 

 Only you know where rain will fall, upon our desert sands,

Kalahari´s little rain-bird, of old heavens & Africa´s arid lands,

My small messenger of grey skies & the Bushmen´s sacred lores,

You, holder of the knowledge & key to heaven´s ancient doors.