In hot Namakwaland
small flowers blanket the ground,
everywhere seeds sprout
turning the world beautiful
into white, blue and orange.
*
Against a rock slope
grows a big old quiver tree,
finger pointing to
the sky, between white boulders
lying around in the grass.
*
Poison mountain’s large plain,
at the large sandstone massif
is daisied snow white
where the big deadly wild garden
looks pretty from a distance
*
Yellow spring flowers
contrasts against old granite
that stand without life
against the blue horizon,
with time sand and rock remains.
*
In a land full of
contradictions, petals peep
out of the hot sand
with some small red heads rising
covering bulbs in the dirt.
*
The ice-cold sea wash
against the oven hot dry land,
burning like hell
with nights very dark and cold,
being lonely with great thirst.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem