A Letter To My Comrade

It’s not dear Comrade

There are no salutations

The news is bad news and sad

Zimb’indaba

Ngezotsheko losan’engutsheni zenkosi

Ngezomsuzo womkhenyan’ esiyavela

Hatshi kubi, kufana lempisi

The revolution which we started

Has lost meaning and sense

The combat spirit we once had

The gallantry we twice had

Has been quenched

By the money from borrowed land

Comrade, it’s not dear

Just like Lobengula when they came

Though uninvited,

The sugar was sweet thus he sold

Today Comrade,

You have forgotten the raison d'être

You are dining with the mischievous sprite

As you look at me

You see a conspirator, trouble causer

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