I believe there's a leaf waving
In the African jungle that when
Man identifies and eat of it
Death would be a forgotten lore
And loneliness and sorrow
And melancholy of death gone.
But would death water a garden
Where the wickedness of man thrives?
It has no other way round
Than rise against the wickedness of man
And leave man on his ephemeral stay
On this transit camp called earth.
the muse of a pen warrior The legacy of a legendary bard A slice, from African loaf of ingenuity. Glad being your keen admirer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The muse of a pen warrior The legacy of a legendary bard A slice, from the loaf of African ingenuity. Glad being your keen admirer.