It was nineteen ninety nine,
Month of October in fourteen,
President Nyerere was not fine,
Tanzania he left itself alone.
People ask 'Will they go on?
Will not they touch stone?
Because President has gone,
The piece will be brocken.
Tanzania people were in spoken,
Will not they being stolen?
The one who come soon,
Which things will he plan?
At the first we began,
They say, only after moon,
War will be upto noon,
They will not see June.
In how we have join,
Through us they have learn,
They only see our skin,
Ending while tourching their chin.
Our country now is clean,
Loving ourselves we have won,
We do not have clan,
Our flag is green.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem