The long hand and the short hand on the church clock
Reached the number twelve
At that exact moment, the people called
Happy new year, with short hi-five
With one another
You would presume that
When all human souls were in church
The sticky hands put their hats
On launched and gave a violent lurch
And the house was all theirs
Like snakes creeping into crevices
They appeared in our apartments
Singing halleluiah and committing all sorts of vices
While we were having spiritual engagements
And the house was empty-all theirs
They all beamed with happiness
'oblivious that what goes around comes around
They were nabbed by their recklessness
Enjoying their largesse when they were found
And Gaol was theirs for life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem