I heard the morning sun
Sing to the village below
Through cream-coloured curtains
Her poems echo some moments ago

I see sunflowers dance by the roadside
Throwing sweet fumes up the sky
I see a dried crust of loose brown earth
Colour pastures were several termites
Dwell, in broken, collective settlements
I see the strong tide of a river
Flow quietly along green borders
So at some point, it meets rocks
And tumbles into foamy, happy falls
I smell tomatoes gutted, laying in the market
And trees dance in the powerful wind,
I see palm trees thrust and greet
This daylight – their perfect lyricist