All the way from rome
they came to our home.
our cultures,
swept to side
and theirs to be.They are vultures
perching and waiting ror who death betides.
They claim they be in our home for revultionalism,
in their hand they held colnialism.
When at last they pierced
in.We were kept under poignant fierce
labour and brutality.In ship we were made
away for peanut which we never percieved.Our days where pervaded
with labourios task and our tomy always faded
On our land they poured anarchy,
they threw away our pride monarchy.
The crown sat on no head,
non sat upon and non wore red.
In ours we could make no claim,
our resources i wished remaint the same
the wise which their plans were couspiscious to in acursory glance,
they said the latter were of no dance.
To the hands that opened the gate i lay the blame
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem