When am I going to rest?
When I'm going to fetch water
You are on my back
When I'm going to fetch firewood
You are on my back
Oh! When am I going to rest?
When am I going to rest?
When I want to rest
You are on my breast
Suckling like a calf
Yet you have little sharpened teeth
I can even scream if you bite my breast.
All you know is to wee wee, eat and cry
Without giving me time to rest
To my breast
You are the pest
Applying pepper might be a pest control
But still I will not rest
Because there is much to do for you
Perhaps death will be my rest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem