(By Temesgn Kebede, 24 February 2021) –
A Calque: ደሃይ መናእስይ ብርሃን ኽብረይ!
My back is a farmland
It has been ploughed and hoed
Since time began,
And the Might Warlord Southbound,
Stretches his hand
To willfully earn the sweat of my glands!
Likewise, my thighs are
Infest my womb
To yield new villein zealots,
So when it suits,
To replace the old flesh.
Water has never been an issue
Inside me deep rivers run through the tissues.
The problem, my hands being manacled,
Unlike the boss,
Unable to perform deft miracles,
Thus, in the pool of my own backyard, that is my back,
I keep drowning and hit the murky ground.
The baron does not care a farthing
I live or die
He has succedanea when I goby.
The farmland being my back
Granted, though it is well taken care of by the ducts
I have never been able to touch, see
Nor nourish myself
With the harvested products.
I am constantly told,
I am a slave everywhen, as I was born then,
The chains of bondage, as yet
have not been broken.
It is time to stop the pain,
But it is all in vain,
I am octogenarian,
Unsurprisingly in decline,
There is little that can be done!
I need to pass on
The bandolier and baton
To the Tigarus youth
That of the North and South
If they take the oath;
The struggle to carry on;
So as to tighten the noose;
And break the neck of the ዲያብሎስ,
Still running loose;
And bury his rotten foot soldiers;
The Carnivore vultures;
A Stain that they are, dark spots;
On once a promising troth,
Their mothers curse giving birth!