When the hunters are gathered
In hushed tones
Behind the thicket
Each signs out his intended prey
As the prey gaits about unawares
Bokima singles out a clay dark buffalo
Its thick and juicy rump
Parts the air effortlessly
It beckons his dreamy gaze with its shiny forequarters
Breasts so full they drown his stiff focus
Doga signs out a translucent impala
Maybe the graceful giraffe
That draws his attention
Then I steal his steely gaze on a tarty kudu
His eyes get pulled by a prancing group of gazelle
A twitchy tshesebe stands away from the head
Its picky mouth kissing softly
At the juicy grass
While her sensitive nose sniffs the empty air
My unsheathed knife startles her with its reflection
I set off, at high speed, after the scared tshesebe
While Bokima settles into a long chase
Behind the drumming buffalo
Doga gets into his roving run behind the dainty game
Meanwhile, Phamola cuts stealthy runs into Doga’s crazed hunts
When the hunters are gathered
In breathy tones
Behind the evening fire
Each points to the resting kill in his hut
While Doga lauds the foresight behind his non-kill
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like your way of writting keep it up