He was poor - he wasn't pitied
He was wise - he couldn't hit it
He steals yet couldn't cut
So he wonder how cursed he was
He pastored and prophesied
'Hajahuhu! , 'Hai'! 'Jah' eli kai'
Vibrated, rev'd and worshipped
Exposed, couldn't fair more or less
A better Mohammedan
'Allah, halal, 'wuuuuarkk' 'sheitan''
He settled for rat poison
Dead for three minute, stooped three days
That's what he get for buyin' the fake
He tied rope around his waist
Couldn't stand the discomfort about nape
He realised he almost missed the air when
He looked down from the bridge, jumped but then
The fishermen didn't let him be!
He frowned, looked around, anger bound
Shot them his ugliest faces with hiss
'Ha! ' He cursed the gods for all his happening
Wondered if he'd made the A list
Poor Alimi (the undead)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Reminds me a story....a street man wants to go to jail so that he can get regular free meals. Each time he comits petty crimes he is saved by some kind heart. One day he meets a priest who makes him realise d gift life. So man decides to lead a hardworking honest life. Next day he gets arrested for somebody else' crime