The Making of Stars.
Long time ago before stars appeared,
nights were as black as standing inside
a mist of ink ejected by an octopus.
When stone-age man found how to lit
a fire, sparks flew up and slowly
the night sky had what we call stars.
When a star or spark dies a new one
will appear if not as many as before
now that we have electric light.
In Kalahari a tribe sits by the fireside
sparks fly upwards, they see to it we
always have stars on the night sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem