Wednesday, 16 November 2016

Tragedy - Recaredo Silebo Boturu

The Okume’s leaves
began to fall
little by little
&,
the wind appeared
to take them like ashes
to the cosmos,
on that night.

On that night
the cricket’s tender voice
which brightens up the passage
of the lightning bugs in the field
was turned off.

On that night
the water of the Atlantic
dried up
&, the sea’s mouth opened
so that Mustafa
would leave his last sigh,
his last breath,
the last beat of his heart
among the brown blankets
of the Red Cross
            with his chimeras.

& in his village
the tigers began to intone
 roars that terrified
the kids,
perturbed their mothers
&,
the Harmattan appeared
that made teardrops
rain from strong men;
            meanwhile his mother
in her bed
consoled by having him
in the pretty earth,
in the fertile earth,
in Glory.

To the North.

Africa is one of the continents richest in natural resources but its children perish like hens.

Recaredo Silebo Boturu (born 1979) Equatorial Guinea
Translated by David Shook
Source: Four Poems by Recaredo Silebo Boturu

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