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Brief vir Simone

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ver onder my druis die stadsgeluide,
die hart van Hillbrow wat flink aanstap,
straatpredikante en Hare Krisjna-profete,
groot rooi bus snork verby,
die laataandkoerantverkopertjies skree
in die meganiese grammadoela-oerwoud.
hysbakke gly op en af,
blitspatrollie skeur deur die nag
en ek sit op die Hillbrowtoring,
wag vir sonop en skryf 'n brief vir Simone.

ek wil jou hê, Simone, (3x)

die meisies van die aand wink,
'n straatmusikant se hoed lê honger en wag
om silwer munte van die verbygangers op te vang.
'n blinde met 'n wit stok strompel
maar die kunsgalery se gaste sien hom nie,
hul oë volg die Art Nouveau van die arties.
en later dra 'n digter voor - T.S. Eliot -
maar hy versmoor die kuns.
en ek sit op die Hillbrowtoring,
ek wag vir sonop en skryf 'n brief vir Simone.
jou glimlag was vol deernis,

jy't my oneindige argumente beluister
met die pseudoleiers van die kultuur,
hul redenasies oor reïnkarnasie,
sosialisme, sport en oor die digkuns,
en of die hele wêreld dalk verkeerd is?
jy soen my toe ons huistoe ry
en die gaste smoorkwaad agterbly.
en nou sit ek op Hillbrowtoring,
ek wag vir sonop en skryf 'n brief vir Simone.

far below me drones the city noises
the heart of Hillbrow marches on firmly
street preachers and Hare Krisna prophets
big red bus roars past.
the late-night-paper-sales-boys shout
in the mechanical boondocks-jungle
elevators slide up and down
cop cars tear through the night
and I sit on the Hillbrow tower
wait for sunrise and write a letter to Simone.

I want you, Simone (3x)

the ladies of the night wink
a street musician’s hat hungrily waits
to snatch up the silver coints of the passers by
a blind one with a white cane stumbles
but the guests at the art gallery do not see him
their eyes follow the Art Noveau of the atists
and later a poet presents – T.S. Elliot
but he smothers the art
and I sit on the Hillbrow tower
wait for sunrise and write a letter to Simone.

your laugh filled with tenderness
you’d listen to my endless arguments
with the psudoleaders of culture
their arguments about reincarnation,
socialism, sport and about poetry
and if perhaps the whole world is wrong?
you kiss me when we travel home
and the guests are left behind ticked off
and now I sit on the Hillbrow tower
wait for sunrise and write a letter to Simone