Handcuffed and in pain,
he looks at the royal emblem
in the detention centre
and the golden lion smiles at him,
showing how great the country is.
He is in a dark cell
waiting to be removed
back to the land of the Kilimanjaro
because his papers have expired
or so he was told.
Maybe if the golden lion
had not been in Africa
taking his share
and plundering wealth,
maybe, just maybe,
no blacks would be in handcuffs
while the golden lion
in the royal emblem
smiles at them:
forcing them to return to countries
she once created
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem