Death comes like a small breeze in the night sneaking in on all the unsuspecting only to kill the fire that burns on the candle light.
Kwa cima izibane, the light is gone, when death comes.
A life once celebrated, where a person used to lay.
We used to call you by name and you would answer and now we will hear your voice no more, and will never see your smile again.
Kwa cima izibane, the light is gone, when death comes.
We bid you goodbye and wish you a safe journey home to be with your Creator who will receive you and welcome you back like a dove returns to his master after it had travelled the world.
Those whom you have left behind are left wondering why, feeling that it is not fair, what will they do without you?
Kwa cima izibane, a lifeless body remains like an empty gong
Death comes like a small breeze in the night sneaking in on all the unsuspecting.
Kwa cima izibane, the light has gone
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem