<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=398137" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Heidelberg recollections</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Too many memories cling<br>to the places where you life and stay<br>from being small and in thoughts you pass<br>the pain and think about the joy, <br>so as if good things can make up for that which hurts.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poems was in my dad’s heart, so as if Afrikaans<br>is a living thing, <br>from being small I was aware<br>of his voice letting words cling to me, <br>even at the mourning, <br>where without really realizing<br>what the meaning of it is<br>I stood at his grave in the red-brown sand<br>and saw crying people passing</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and for me it was as if he just went away, <br>but his big black car <br>with the fins was still there and daily<br>mother used it to drive to work<br>and I was really scared<br>that at a time she would also take to the road<br>and when she in the mornings was leaving <br>I was wondering if I would see her again? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The black jacket and hat<br>with which dad made us scared<br>when we did not want to eat<br>or did not want to learn <br>what he was teaching us<br>still was hanging behind the door<br>and time and again I looked <br>at these objects <br>expecting them <br>to on a day come to life again<br>with dad disguising him self in them<br>like when I was naughty, <br>when he came in through the back door.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Gert+Strydom">Gert Strydom</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=398137" data-title="Heidelberg recollections de Gert Strydom" data-description="Too many memories cling to the places where you life and stay from being small and in thoughts you pass the pain and think about the joy, so as if good things can make up for that which hurts. Poems was in my dad’s heart, so as if Afrikaans is..."></div> </div> </div>

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