Death is inevitable,
Burial is a necessity,
The universal structure of culture,
Makes burial a parcel of man’s dignity.
In my home town in the days of yore,
Burial was no fun but a serious business Ritually improvised; and devoid of modern yoke,
Conducted by elders, with the Amory of incantations.
The venoms of colonization,
Digested by our ignorance,
Exposed our cultural imperfection,
Thus, our culture lay’s in a state of demise.
Arise! All ye cultural compatriots,
A cultureless man, align with the thought of fools.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem