So tragic
That i should cry
with my father,
like he cried with his
who also cried with his
In the clearing
past the valley
saddened faces of men
who carry heavy hearts
and ash-painted foreheads
congregate in sorrow,
Heads are bowed
in bereavement.
I must be there
to cry by my father
we will roast the meat
but eat none,
we will leave it for gods
In respect to our unfallable-
Mutabari
Though he fell
No fool
He did not fall
The gods beckoned
him
oo sori
today i will cry harder
to be forgiven.
But today also
i will ask my father
'what did mutabari look like? '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem