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Showing posts from February 6, 2011

We're alive

Must be a high time Less melancholic Hear it melodious: the birds sing A hearty belly laugh: around the corner Let us flinch: wash faces What’s the going and doing? Dance and melodious voices What’s the going and doing? To make sense We’re alive Must be a high time Thorny trees wither: we see! Beauty of this land’s here: Green, ever green: insects lighting the dark You won’t need a torch: mister or missus! Belly dance: legs write four checking how long your beards! Oil a currency and reeds fining learning Bare feet walk it soft: jumping-running not hurting To make sense We’re alive Must be a high time Rough travels are high Cycle within: twinkle twinkle, tis real Over and beyond the hills and mountains Come snow and heavy rains Vegetation tower: weeds decay Fill granaries and stacks of hay for livestock Ever bright: never derive dark Dark, the pioneer of melancholy off To make sense We’re alive Must be a high time A ceremony of cranes: we take chairs

New nation launched to neighbour East Africa

By Nyak Simon and Sabbath De Yecouba