Here lies the son of the soil
Parted from his blood, toil and moil,
Wherever gold shined there his heart is
And where the rags gather there is not his,
...
True love to me, my love
Is a feeling that do not move
It is but a fix pendulum
That roams the world
...
Lingering over thousand choices
Resulting from doing good or the reverse,
Different sonorous voices
Resounding flimsy though luring opinions
...
True love to me, my love
Is a feeling that does not move
It is but a fix pendulum
That roams the world
...
Born in Kartong a small village located in the south of the Gambia, West Africa)
An Elegy To A Rich Man
Here lies the son of the soil
Parted from his blood, toil and moil,
Wherever gold shined there his heart is
And where the rags gather there is not his,
Where the wind bubble with sound
There you find him around,
A son the master to a servant lend
But time has forever made him to the ground attend.
Life a but a word that seeks to be written, success is but a dust that seeks to be blow to rise and shine, failure is but an enemy that fears only toil and sweat