The sun shines dutifully
The wind hurry in slow haste
Folding in its kaftan, abandoned moments gathered from the streets
All feign business - none notice the looting
The desert's solitary wide expanse mustered an army of dust
Making a rushing sound of vast bees of mystery
Mystery indeed! Of the lives of Ebiba youths
A big youth, bearded like the virgin savanna
Indolent to work, and a fan of the steaming pot
A big youth, gallivanting the streets
Collecting youths of same passion for a crusade of cacophony
screams of perversity outcry the whimper of morality
And all the aged of the society stare in a trance of nothing to say.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem