Whatever happened
To the poets of Uganda?
In the meantime –
We were as perfect as their bones could predict
We could not squander what they did not achieve
They heavy dead
We light and loving
Too human for politics
Deaf to abasement, to dictator’s fame
To the cackle of the fisted man
In the hours of giving
Please live with us, they say
Please touch us lovingly
I will be a husband to my brothers
Give you passion gently
Dwelling at your beauty
For all our poet-sakes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem