Neka nibbled at scraps of rotten fish and strips
Of bitter beef from the unswept market floor;
They said his sticky fingers stole the missing money
Although he wasn't anywhere near the big boar
Who accused him of the talkative theft
That happened at the sardine store.
Angry hands slashed him with a shame sjambok;
They spat on him and pinched his suffocating skin
To squeeze a crude confession by formidable force;
They dismissed testimony from the next of his kin
Acceptable and watertight as it stood
And brutal boots kicked him on the chipped chin.
They stripped his bludgeoned body naked,
Poked sizzling scissors into his breathless backside
To brand the mark of shame on him
Near the rocky and craggy graveside
They'd prepared early that fateful morning in a grim
Twist of fate to bury him on the hippy hillside.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem