There was a missionary who came to see the tribes
Natives of the mountain class, who stay there to survive.
They live with basic human needs: shelter, food, and water
Planting corn and root crops was a way to ease their hunger.
Weaving fiber for some clothes to wear through sun or rain,
The natives live quite peacefully and have abundant grain.
Still they have some sort of gods perhaps to hold their faith
Until the missionary came and declared another fate.
The tribal chief was quite cordial as he sat there to listen
Then the missionary taught him about the things of heaven,
The tribal chief stood up and he showed his idol god,
Then he brought out a coin and said -'This is Christian god'.
All Rights Reserved ~~~Cynthia Buhain-Baello~~~04.21.14
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem