Africa, such a dwelling paper to write on
Littered with a spring of thoughts
Of being black and orbits the sun
In a teething treasures, writers and winters
Recoil rollers in glows of pizza
On a piece of rivered Safari feeds
Inside Africa, beings of treasures
Deep and deep they hold the sea
Bottomless nets fishing laughs
And canoes Floats on a peaced water seas
And rises from high table of green cities
And crowns a settle set of brown crowns
Up see a sea of yearning hope
Written in large print on their faces
As It preserves a prepared watered basin
With their pens swimming awalk
Closer to the sun's core are good reads
That vomit an uprise stony stories
From motherland, to the east is their stlyles
As eternal apples of eagle minds
And on the clustal plate is such volumes
Treasures of being Africa lead an eye lid
That offloads such loads of hot lods
Rolled and whip the dead uprise
Of Africa, beings of treasures
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem