sadness ripe and crumbling mirrors her
in the market salesman's trays
delicate is she who loves apples
he sees that he sees her stubbornly
laughing about his sweet-n-sour jokes
he'd like to draw his jack-knife now
and show her both the rough pip halves
she's doubtful for what seems a fruitless hour
in the nick of time she catches the last bus
when she goes off to the dancehall
she bears a basket laden with red cheeks
there on her sun-coloured arms
lean the childmen begging
to take waterfruit to roofhouse roof
but she goes there to dance
when she goes there
she goes there to dance
when she's there everything starts to dance
a little gospel squeal may sail across
from the south of tobacco faraway america
my lockhips want to sway
attempt her emptiness
until I am broken by dawn
and she is asleep beside me again
Translation by Willem Groenewegen
Part 2. I quote, " she bears a basket laden with red cheeks"… wowow! ! ! And " when she's there everything starts to dance " What to say! Simply great, awesome. Top score
What an amazing tribute to womanhood! The words, phrases and images flow a natural flow. "
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Tsead Bruinja is selected as The Poet of The Day on 13.06.2022. Congratulations to him!