Only twelve when I left home
back when time was so fast
and small boys wore no shoes
that cold feet may feel the earth
and know the way to eternal truth
Far flung to Calabar
St. Patrick's call
feeding my mind
like a gold mine
with knowledge tall
Priests painting my skies
Arts expanding my veins
Science directing my brains
Virtues lighting my eyes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem