Monday, September 17, 2012

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'ĂȘtre
You are dining with the mischievous sprite
As you look at me
You see a conspirator, trouble causer