I’m a distant stone alone—
By the wilderness deeper in the far mountains rock,
Where large crusts of microscopic crystals—
Sneak through bundles of thin long splinters,
And wall by the sedimentary and metamorphic stones—
With colorful grains of granite tones,
I’m a malachite stone, greener but crystal—
Ornamental stone and precious,
I'm a mirror of the soul, a stone pyramid below the earth crust—
That mirrors stunning contrasts and swirls between a glass shine,
I’m a native stone that sparks within the natural wild—
Deep, and between the eyes of a needle child,
I’m from the deeper patterns of enchanting masses—
In Katanga and across many other forms salt roses,
Between the gems of East Africa—
The Tanzanite crystals,
The Senegambian stone circles of the Creator—
Megaliths of Sine Ngayene and Wanar in Senegal,
In Wassu and Kerbatch in the Central River Region in Gambia—
Standing apart outside the circles of the ancient physical,
I step to the rolling stones—
Of Old Shoshong hills like a stepping thunder stone,
I’m a sacred stone from the sky—
That fell when rain clouds gathered,
My shadow reigns over the Gcwihaba caves—
Where great minds of the ancient settlers have golden traces,
I’m a flavor at Umhlanga, to the iron ore miners on a pastoral—
Farmland, where dozens of ore have natural,
Colors that sparkle in water when hands of stone lovers do—
Mirror their faces when stone carvers do,
I’m a mystery of nature amidst the wilderness—
Far off the beaten paths, scattered with eagerness,
To the magnificent stone faces of the Tsodilo Hills—
Where time and age would, and can tell at peace,
And weave across the lightning stones apiece,
To the mineral fossils, when sudden storms deepen, at ease.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
correct Code: opnmambo23012014-1402