Con sequences butters their breads
Thievery in the name of ghosts is their industry
Uncleanliness and poverty is their reward
Wretched is the dividend from associations with them
I speak of cote d'ivoire
My bread shall pierce thine innards
Mine water shall bleed you
Mine wealths stolen by thee shall slay thine people and lands
Cursed be thine nations eternal
And thine ancestors shall bear thee witness of thine sold nations
Paid for with all stolen from me!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem about the situation that cuts across the whole of Africa.