Black Crow Poem by Charl JF Cilliers
Black Crow
Having gluttoned its fill
the black shadow of the black crow
moves ghost-like over rocks,
over dry earth, over scrub
and disappears into trees.
Since the road that kills
was built, every morning is a feast.
And the shadow moves
out of the trees, over rocks, dry earth
and scrub and settles on a dead shape.
The shadow
that is feathered, with claws and a tearing beak.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/12/2024 1:05:58 PM # 1.0.0.1119
