With charcoal she scrawled
On my trap-door in the sun;
Soapstone urns and words that rhyme
She broke on temple floors
- As perfectly symmetrical
As responses are to patterned inquiries,
A response to inquiries quite
Wasn’t what I sought –
And these flocks of silence
That you tend in Eldoret,
Do they bleat your heart into a beat
Trampling and treading over regret?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem