I looked into his stern and weary rude face
his eyelids were desperate
cracked and still.
Mounted by the spirits of poverty,
his eyes were full of loathsomeness
Angry by himself, and of what the system
has made him become
but he doesn’t know this!
His ignorance molds his innocent targets
to hate, attack and uproot
(the weeds)
who have risen above his hate and self-destruction.
his brothers have betrayed his trust
and have grown wealthier as he rots in his peas
he has failed to reclaim his country
and he loathes his skin, his society
but he doesn’t know this!
In his heart he kills
everyone he thinks doesn’t deserve better than them
he’s been here for long and he will be still here
with himself as his own enemy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem