Look at them
Their wrinkled faces tell it all
Of the heat that is eating them up,
Look at them child
They work hard but get nothing in return
The tax man takes it all.
Are they not citizens of this great land
Where the pauper becomes poorer
While the bourgeoisie becomes richer.
Look at them closely
Can you count those ribs
Look at their noses
Is that not mucus?
They have learnt to call it sweat.
Look at them again,
They can hardly walk
Their legs are thin and weak
But they cannot give up
They cannot afford the bus fare,
The tax man just announced
An increase in Petrol price
They will have to dig deeper into their pockets.
Look at them son,
Look at that worked out crippled house,
They call it home
While we sleep in Runda
And go for holidays in Rome!
Yet you complain of a stomach ache
To them they are immuned
Yesterday they ate nothing
Tomorrow God knows.
Look at them
Fifty Bob will make them sing and dance
For that small man who wants to be big and smart,
Yet afterwards
They are a forgotten lot
Next election
They will be dusted off
With 100 Bob,
The tune this time will be: Maendeleo mtapata mkinichagua tena,
Son, they will ululate
Yet they don't have a place to urinate.
Look at them,
Look at us,
Ours is a dream
One day we hope it will be real,
To eat like them
And live in Runda
For now let man eat man!
With pain I am reading the poem. That is true that is what happens. we work hard but some else gets rich at the end of the day. you have spokennthe truth. nice poem
Sadness; facing the truth of the land. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes, I like this poem. It has the message in black and white.