They are coming, in the distance
Merged together
A gust of murmurs on the horizon
Like deep echoes of a force.
A force like a token of groans
Of past slave-bands
Dragging along the wretched.
They are coming, in the distance
Indifferently conversing
In the late afternoon which exudes a tolling of bells.
Arnaldo Santos (born 1935) Angola
Translated by Ann Titterington
Source: The London Magazine
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please keep your comments relevant and free from abusive language. Thank you. Note that comments are moderated so it may be a day or two before your comment is posted - irrelevant or abusive comments will not be published.