Many peasants live in Uncle's back-yard;
They have been toiling for decades
But all they have is hope for plenty.
Some of Uncle's nieces and nephews
Say they are lazy
But never mentioned the legacies of slavery.
Thing is, they worship the same god,
As their neighbors
But never received a manifestation.
Once in a while they are given pittances,
When something cataclysmic happens,
Like an earthquake or political unrest.
It's almost impossible for them
To change their stations:
From time to time, a few escape,
To live with Uncle
But them too have to struggle
To shed the 'old man'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem