My village is long gone;
The Koko seller drops a cube of sugar and charges you for two;
The carpenter charges you for things he does not need for your roof;
The husband cheats and the wife retaliates in like many;
The policeman takes a crumb from the driver who has paid something to avoid paying for road tax;
The Pastor lies using the name of the spirit;
Then the contractor pays the politician to cut corners.
Is it a country that can grow?
The drummers increase the beats;
The flutist gets into high pitch;
Hoping to push me into a frenzy
But l refused because l will
Not sing the same tune like others.
I will watch from my corner
To see who bites whom
And for what?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem