I'll Beat The Grass Poem by Sammy Aswani Luyove

On the road to the grinding mill,
Where my wife grinds her posho,
There, by the path-side,
In the tallest of the thickest grass,
A black masculine cat hides by;
And the tall strands of his many hairs
Scare my wife, her stomach boils
with fear like a boiling pot of porridge,
She can't get her posho peacefully,
For she fears black cats;
It's ominous among her people
that when a black cats crosses your way
Then all is bad!
So my wife gets uneasy,
When she glimpses at him
Her heart beat jumps a beat.

But,
I'll not be cowed to let my balls frozen,
I'll beat the grass along the path
And track his paws, and risk his claws;
To restore the regular rhythm
Of my wife's heart; I'll beat the grass.