A've heard of the great deeds of the gentile saviour,
of his teachings & upright behaviour,
Bt why, my spirit of him not devour?
Next came the wanderer of the Arabian desert,
In Africa his knowledge he sort to impart,
But from him, my spirit decided to depart.
Have I told u of my tribe's god, ngai?
Heard he was in the desert with Haggai,
Him my foe call 'mlagai'
what of the Asian god buddha,
wonder if he know of the children of judah,
my friends say he is the king of 'duba'
Once a've thought of doom's magic,
his work I hear is fantastic,
But of him, my spirit is allergic.
Am torn between this gods, with faith of a cord,
Amongst them, who is my true lord?
Tell me, so I know which bus to board.
All that I do is in vain,
my spirit is in pain,
searching for whom it throne to reign.
(mlagai-conperson.
Duba-witchcraft)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem