I am a wood seller,
with my knickers of myth, I move my planter,
gold-mine I dont have,
though every morning, I starve,
still, I dont want the name robber,
divinity bestowed me an axe, am not a smuggler,
neither do I want to be a public wealth snatcher,
but don't think I am idle;
fate is the one giving me the topple,
I must continue pedalling my bicycle,
at noon, with my hoe, I give this soil a tussle,
till the tide of destiny dance to my riddle,
the scorching sun is giving me a dribble,
soon, my pains will vanish like a shadow,
I have ancestral blood, flowng in my marrow,
sea gods will aid my narrow sea paddle,
at twilight, my flag will dance and dangle,
I will ride the horse hope of Negro,
just to paint Everest with my marker,
for in the sky, have seen a ladder.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Only courage is needed to achieve this aspiration. Press towards the mark and not the prize. Nice craft.