branches are still naked
reaching towards heaven
motionless when wind blows
some won't come to life
natives would use for bonfire
to celebrate darkness in rhyme
ranting accompanied by flute,
slow beating drums, melancholic
quick steps mimicking flight
of great eagle in fiery hunt
a scream to scare away evils
that roam silence of forest
feast for fresh meat from
afternoon's traps and fruits
from wild fruiting trees
which by now slowly dying
acid rain, no replacement
music will go on so as rain
antiquated drinks from ferments
keep those feet dancing for hours
those voices praising their gods
serenading their soon to be mates
when bonfire turn to ashes, sleep
to wake up to morning sun shadows
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem