What facet
daffodils hold against
the offsprings of blue whales
in the marrams of blind creation
whilst they will never meet,
o'er here nor o'er there.
Like you and i
Like you and i.
O'er our shroud canals
where grave'keepers plough
our dead souls,
what will we say to
the earth when it is revealed to
her that we forgot her birth name.
And how do we restore pride
to her molested sands?
Whether by the sea or
in the banks of Kouilou-Niari where warm blood of infants cloth naked sands,
so that we can see of how
much time cost the falling of each grain into 'our-glass', 'hour-glass',
our lifespan.
In Kwando, Kuiseb, Mbomou
Tugela, we took those waters
and we washed our hands.
Heedful to Nile when she spoke,
commanding us to hurl our
tears to her banks as if they were
anything possible to hold onto.
Should earth die
In your pale dreams,
would you go to her funeral?
Or you would wake up
sad in your heaven?
Earth and heaven
will never meet.
Not o'er here nor o'er there
like you and i.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem