Its heavy upon me now
I do not think i can bear it anymore
Yet i will maintain some silence
And die a peaceful death
Only my tear soaked pillow,
Will be the teller of my misery.
For even if i speak, none listens
And even if they listen,
None understands
And even if they understand
They will still fold their arms
Without any action.
And even if they react,
Will they bring back my beloved?
My beloved brother, Fung.
The mob butchered Fung
just as They Butchered,
Burned And Grilled Ngong,
Ngwa and the thousand brothers
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem