when measuring time
things fall apart
Efuru! ! !
Sizwe banzi is dead
The mine boy smiled.
the old man and the sea
saw chike and the river
gazing at half of a yellow sun.
so long a letter
the house boy who speaks
Americana
plugged the purple hibiscus
into his baskets of flowers
like the colour purple.
on the ant hills of the savanna
there was a country,
where our husbands have gone mad again.
because the wives revolt
against the trial of Tithan kimathi
the palm wine drinkard
went on a berger strike
because the beautiful ones are not yet born.
this is our chance
the black boy said
they all attended the trials of brother Jero.
sitting like they are measuring time.
waiting for and angel.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I lack the knowledge to connect all of the references, but your imagery and linguistic craft are powerfully effective. I look forward to reading more of your work, good poet.