That land is a blessing I dare not to lie.
Tangled branches and threads of grass, birds appreciate such a stunning style of dressing,
Even travelers stingy not an eye.
Giant waters reveal the color of the sky
Wooden canoes sway to the rhythm of Lake Nyasa’s waves while heaven wonders,
Who art thou looking like I.
The valleys low, the mountains high;
Shelter for all who swim, crawl, walk, run or fly
Regardless when they live or die.
That land is a blessing I dare not to lie.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem