To all enemies of poverty
Rushing wave of sweats and stales,
Shared and scattered among many hills,
Like a covering blanket,
Only for the chilly night.
Owner of many stores on lands,
From the Nile, your waves spread,
And the Niger opposed thee not,
For the Zambezi adoreth thee.
And ravaging you are on the lands.
Crowns and beads fear thee with intense,
Hoes and spades befriend thee from the past times.
With thy fangs and pangs, none is spared,
Sweet servitude you gave to many bones and bloods.
And savaging you are on all lands.
Wondering freely like a cloud,
That floats on high hills and lowly streams,
When all the men seeth thou to be avoided,
A host of many entertain thee with loves.
And ravaging you are to the lands
JADE from WAKANDA
Little Jade from the estate of no house,
And your next meal
Your little hopes
But little do you care of the presents,
Little good sweet joys from you flows.
And you forgot the tears, the cries and pain.
And you forgot the fruits on the upper layer of trees,
And you forgot the bath where water run,
And you forgot the chilly autumn breeze
as told by the American.
The hope in you is rekindled from little sparks,
And great joy you paved unwary of pains.
Little jade will grow from the estate of no house
To be a big ruby with many estates.