a barely muted buzzing of flies
thousands upon thousands,
a counterpoint click-clicking
of crickets in chorus,
a crackling of flames
in the noon-day heat
scattering sheaves
of semi-charred papers
in a gentle breeze
that plays upon
flapping posters,
proclaiming in
four languages and dialects
UNESCO's 'peace&prosperity for all';
heaped up in altar-like fashion,
redundant, sacrificial juvenile faces
with eyes no longer bright
shining as the sun,
away on the miraged horizon
shapes shift and change,
a battered land-rover seems
to bullock its way toward
this stony ground whereon
seed has been spilled,
their meagre dust
caught up and weighed
and found wanting
for no reason.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Like this, a fantastic poem.