in boats with broken masts
they come looking for a manger
but our inn is full tonight
the inn we built
on the skull and bones of Africa
and who will hear
the screams of children
with blisters for a skin
and who will listen
to a father's cry
cradling his lifeless son
and who will love
three thousand children
with green lips and fleshless skulls
in this cruel and loveless sea
even the dead begin to weep
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem