Now a racist slur,
Makes my nation stir.
When a game,
Into battle is made.
As a sport,
It is no more played.
Words are spitting fire
For them it’s my prayer
If u burn with ire
The smoke enters,
Your eyes first.
Forgive if u cold,
Forget, u must!
Stop this chaos.
Win over inhibitions first,
Bat with new zeal,
Bowl a better deal,
Time will settle this dust,
Forgive, if u could.
Forget, u must!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem