Talking high voltage dares for stars to shine or dim
The flick of the flame cry for the noise to subside
So that the water can sunk whilst the birds are singing
Actions spoke louder in the congregation
No need for the mouth to raise the ire
The veering bus had no driver besides the noise
Over stalling the rackety wretched engine
Too many hands fighting to steer it in different directions
Exclaiming at the top of their voices
But kept silent when asked to pick the heavy sack
One can observe the bickering under the floodlight
Which never fail to illuminate all manner of ugly, beautiful, louder and reticent scoundrels
Unable to reach the destination by stepping out of the flood light
Counting nothing on the curve but to forsake the courtesy platform
N Nkuna 22 August 2013
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem