I look up from my writing and see such a sight
bathed in warm sunshine, this African light.
The hills in the distance are blue, purple, grey,
their summits draw graph lines ‘gainst light of day.
The ocean kisses the feet of those hills,
but ‘tis done under cover of sea fog that spills
along the beaches, the coast and the rocks.
Don’t you wish you could save this in a box which has locks?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem