Suddenly the Isle swan went berserk
Risked projection in amplitude
Endless waters bathing her chest
And when the anchor finally did hold
Quaking filled a foreign land
And aborigines ran helter-skelter
From what was there to brew a breed
Mother so interested
In kiddies occident baked
But oh! What a terrible monster
What a bizarre thing, cloning could yield
Sire now an affair of the heel
Super senine
Coming through the seas
Powerful boat
Dragging all the loots
Wriggling fishes
Or parameters unalike
All have fallen preys
To the jaguar at the wheel
And in this worldwide tournament
Only the arm-length counts
To reach, grab and crush what is afar
Let walls fall rabbles
For the owners of a handy mix-
Self style could be a funny thing
Knowing that all pins have pricking snouts
Heaven itself, mighty as it is
Has turned deaf ear to bondage
Why take the liberty
Of setting canned worms free?
Sure, some wisdom could exist
In what the quakers did object
Certain murrain booted almost a grand
The cure massacred a million or more
Even furrowed a rift forevermore
Such a charity work
Our Sundiata of the time
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem