Friday afternoon fatigue, chocolate
counterpoint against chips and tea,
an undercover spy posing as a kind
saleslady refuses me a Russian roll
I end up eating a cheese-steak pie
No longer able to make my way on
the quiet path between Soul Music
& an article on the square kilometre
telescope array - warning the poor
might just steal radio antenna sets
Since government invests in street
name changes only, Pretoria to be-
come Tshwane which rhymes with
Polokwane; being concerned with
petty things the telescope seems
A bit of an overkill for a populace
struggling with life on earth - - no
sympathy for astronomy's grand
ideal of mapping heaven the last
frontier - mine is to get home
In one piece…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem