Where it stands as an old giant on the plain
it's painted with the setting sun
or at twilight with the golden moon.
When the yellow-finch pecks at fruit on a branch
then the morning sun far off in the east do become aflame
where the braches do spread out to the top
while a lions licks his body against the soft trunk
and do secretly glance at the game that is grazing on the plain.
While a green-black starling do frolic in the upper branches
where the baobab stands like this from the beginning of time
and when for the last time the morning star does shine in the distance
there are wild-dogs that do growl and bark far off,
the lion stretches out in the shade before he roars
and crawls up against the trunk of the baobab.
© Gert Strydom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem