Born in a hutment with a wooden ladle
In the mouth, and rocked in a sack cradle
By my indigent mother searching for a saddle
And facing every morning many a hurdle
Humble people reaching heights of glory
May our minds enlarge reading their story
O' lord! Save me from every trouble
And confer strength to face the struggle
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem