Dark twisted form
Of shreds and cunning
Crawling with an inward twinkle
At the agonies of Africa.
Praying and pricing
Passers by
As in black and white
Jingle pennies past;
A hawk’s eye
Penetrates to the core
On a hot afternoon
To pick the victims
That with a mission
Dare not look at
This conflict.
A dollar drops,
An Indian sulk
Passively avoids-
I am stabbed to the core;
Pride rationally injured.
In the orbits of our experience
Our beggarness meets
With the clang of symbols,
Beggarly we understand
As naturally we both know
The Kampala beggar
Is wise-
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem