Under the shadow
Of his,
I marking his photograph
Overlooking me
And I going my way
With hurried steps,
Hearing black music going somewhere
Which but letting me not go.
How did they work
On the farms,
Into the households,
How were they forced into slavery
To the abolition of it,
How did they take to life?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem