Many conversations that end the same damn way
So many words spoken with the same solemn intention
A couple of letters written to tell the magnitude of the depth of life
Well to summarize it all some just say, life was granted, so we live it
Reminiscent of bad deeds orchestrated with good intentions
We live and look back at the expanse of life man has lived
At the eulogy reading they keenly listen at the end of a life story
So the bereaved stand under the consolation of friends, neighbors.
What kind of man has the soil taken from the village?
He was kind of a good man with good intentions for his family
Time cut him short of all the aspirations he had for the community
He drunk just once a little, then cursed at the village chief once too little
Angry at the misgivings of life he was, but stilled he toiled
What kind of man works to sweat the little things in life?
Only this kind of a good man that taught virtues to his children
Now to a land beyond he is taken
Leaving behind not the biggest of estate for his children
He shared his soul even with the despised and afflicted
Almost too close to being a good man in his time
Without a legacy as big as the kings but the hearts of many will behold his memories
Never enough words to describe a man in his quest to be perfect
A journey to fulfill as much but with limited time
He was kind of a good man.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A refined poetic imagination, Mwenyeji. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.