Neither the ornate marbles nor the embellished monuments
Of loot-glutted commanders-in-chief shall outlive this rhyme;
Not the rose-smelling sonnets of William Shakespeare
Nor the natty lines of Edgar Poe and Wordsworth so sublime,
Shall outlast the echo of these nifty lines,
Coming from where the sun never shines.
The records of Napoleon are towering vast,
And the voyages of Columbus an indelible history;
But all these shall long live and finally take to dust.
They shall not for a single stolen second survive
Africa's foremost maiden verse;
Sharp and sweet, plain and terse.
The darling deeds of Lincoln are without peer,
And the successes of Churchill a rare eternal feat;
Yet all these shall have their berth and disappear;
These newborn lyrics shall live longer than these.
These dark songs shall without end pipe
Their miserable rhythm till the end is ripe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem