When rainbow comes, sometimes I lost
To the marshland of my childhood
When the rain were pounding
Stretching our little hands to collect white snow,
Begging God to let them in a little more.
When a ring bells, I wish I was a kid
That lad in a Kaki uniform
With my sisters wandering in a yard
With their long blue colored dresses
Singing Mbe Kanyamanza keza in a great unison.
I miss those days of cattle out,
Herd of cows mowing and grazing
Down the valleys and mountains
Red sorghum farms as our hiding place
After roasting sweet potatoes
In a well crafted hard earth.
We lived a livable time
That has no mark of memory
Only tears can explain
A hollow vacuum of nostalgia
That this growing up has dug in our hearts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem