Behind the bush lay the little black buck,
A venomous arrow, in his heart was stuck;
From behind a tree had shot the hunter,
Had his eyes set on the buck; the dirty predator.
Darkness dawned, as through him swam pain,
Bit by bit, out of him, life did drain.
At the touch of the arrow came not his death,
But at the sound of his, away, trotting friends’ breath.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem