on a glare-warm day, I whatched baboons
Baboons whose holes looked like a pink ball
They crawled to ward our sugar-cane field-wall,
And I laid planted behind the anthill-haze
Still planted, I questioned myself and dazed
'What if they break and braid me into a vale?
Will they shake me like winds do to a kale?
May be I have to be brave unlike Joy'sbays'
The orange clouds swallowed the sun half-chewed,
And a tender-soft breeze caressed my cheeks
While the baboons besieged the canes still
The canes were harvested afresh like last weeks,
And in dissappointment, father would be sued
But, the truth was that I was bounded without a skill.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem