Tingle, tingle, tingle like a gong
Plunging into us all the blades at length
Dealing with us recklessly
While your chisels are doing their song
The day never pass without rolling tears
Mourning for our lost dears
And our friend, and our mother too
Grieves over its tots death toll
While she is left un protected by our strength
We survivors arise to plead you
We are unable to maintain our duties
Because our pools and us are few
We are your life, we are your sieve
While we cook our food under siege
Please save, save us
Stop tingling on us and replant as more
We will remain good for you and our mother soil
Our pools shall fill the pond in our shade
While we provide our nice shadow
If we sit and think about you
You do things in favour of yourself
We observe no raw to cover us
Illicit charcoal burning obsess them
Dealing with us so fast
While our dead relatives being laid by lain
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem