I was born my father's grandfather
i spoke of days that speak
i exited my shelter of nine months
i took up the hoes to till the land
and grazed cow upon the lush green hills
i escaped with my wounded legs
and enemies Herd, to a victory dance
of man with my fore skin still young
i took in her form and eased her on her beauty
the young reached for my calf
it screamed its lungs out
'father 'could it be this young one i sired?
they called upon me to judge him guilty
his guilty innocence
to ostracise a soul that saved many the lot
and took its neighbours wife
while it suckled it's mothers bossom
for his concieving saw cows given
for a bride
who forgot the full moon meant for her conception
while it suckled it's mothers bossom for his concieving saw cows given for a bride very nice of the real way of story telling
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Absolutely genuine! An ingenious take on the cost of sacrifice. Well penned. tfs 10/10