The mango tree stands on our land
Shedding luscious fruits that
Belie the reign of hunger
And tears of waste that water the land
Our vision is blurred
Under an angry sun we set out
In search of sheep covering
But there they were in berets
Demanding from us cowries
Our voices are drowned
Leather whips sang on our black backs
As we danced the dance of frogs
A million agonies pierced our hearts
And the clouds cried our suppressed tears
Our fleshes are weakened
As the king's boots trample souls
And voices wrestled from owners
Chased into hovels we shall be thorns
With wounded tongues
We shall hurl bloodied curses
For our spirits are willing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem