Beasts of Nalunga seize
their time when the land
is dry and cave panthers
rip out the frogs that might
shelter them; torrential rains
are then unleashed, dragging
away fire places, gobbling
up jars, pots, ladles, hoes,
calabashes; sending homes
tumbling down canyons,
swirling with people's cattle,
sheep, goats, dogs, chicken -
the lot, as men, women,
children fumble, knock
about, forever sashaying
to nondescript labyrinths
en route to distant waters
and lakes, seas and oceans.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem