Tenuous and tormented talons droop down from the center of his crown
The beach rasta forms a smile each time he is approached which cracks from ear to ear
He holds dear what little fortune he has been blessed with
His Caribbean test he has always been blessed with
Any particular position to sit down on the beach to procrastinate from
Like the cockerel sings at dawn the rasta man turns up his tunes and lights up the holy herb
For the next few hours he puts up an internal sign that reads, please do not disturb
And the mood changes smooth like the skin on face
Two paradises marry external and internal, forever his grace
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem