Maybe it's a cultural thing,
but I have not seen people
having a braai like South Africans do.
I have seen Americans
holding a barbeque
and in a sacrilegious way frying
burger patties on a fire
while sniffing up the smoke
and with flames
while they do think
that it is really something.
At a real braai every man is the king
of his braai, where he chooses
the wood or charcoal,
sets it up and alight
and decides
what comes on the roasting grill
and at what heat
the coals are right
and when to fry
what he wants to.
Some people fry marinated steaks,
while others butter them
before turning them to roast
Beer, cider or cool drink
is the social thing
and while the steak, chops
and sausages sizzle
men talk in a group,
do enjoy the experience
and the great smell
of really good and tasty food.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem