Praises To The Peasant Poem by onesimo odwa mabovula

Looks of envy and admiration be to he, who serves another
He who’s looked down on but, never does the same to any.
Praise be to the peasant, his fellows and their houses at large.
Praise be to the one who was breed in a brothel
For he knows and understands pain and suffering in its depth.

Hope for a better tomorrow, a better day, is forever in his mind.
Praise the man who kneels down on other's feet, but never loses respect of self.
Dignified in all he does, esteemed in who he is, that’s what defines greatness.
But never has he been shown dignity by others, other than his fellows
He prides himself in his rags and never looks down on those poorer than he is.

When the masters come he bows his head down to greet,
Never for a split second has he looked them straight in the eye
Let alone thought of doing it.
Even when the treatment is unbearable he keeps on slaving,
for he knows he has mouths to feed, hungry mouths indeed.

I wonder what makes them better man, compared to the man he is?
The gold and diamonds they possess? I doubt.
for the value that they embody has been bestowed upon them by opinion.
might be by fact in their eyes, but not the true value that they embody.
Rocks like others they are, and just that nothing more!

Is it their riches…? Neither that, for only the clothes get better.
It’s not the houses, because they don’t even know how many
rooms their mansions have
I mean, how can a man pride himself in his belongings
if he is unaware of their quantity and quality?

It’s not the food he eats, for he doesn’t know how to prepare it.
Never will you find an ungrateful peasant; even the uniform doesn’t degrade him
He never gets presents, just gifts of pity from man who see themselves as better.

I respect the man whose pride; dignity and whole being has been torn apart,
Brocken down to shreds of pierces, but picked them up and went on with life.
He loves and lives the life of pain with no regrets, guilt nor remorse.
A truly loyal peasant, indeed.