Paris Thulare

Le satlo kwišwa bohloko, la gegewa
Le satlo tshepišwa mehlolo, la wela
Le sa tlo bona dikgolo
Dibotse di tlo feta
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Bona o ithlobogile boka mpša ya tswetši,
Bona o ikgonere,
nne le tshela go wena di ya swana.
Orile o sale yo monanana, waephethola komang-kanna,
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What if the heaven we are told about doesn't exist,
What if it's a place we see only in our dreams.
Who has ever went there and came back?
Who has ever seen hell with his naked eyes?
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I am the reflection ofmy own shadow
The one behind the existence of barrows
Because i have been given this life
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To thee pains irreparable,
To thee lost stillborn,
To thee poor searching,
To you out there, the souls suffering
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No one remembers you
No one is here for you
No body will ever cry for you
No one is so keen to nourish you
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I didn't know you were capable of pulling such a miracle,
I was Depressant then,
With tears looting my face
I was a runner in my life,
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O a phadima wa ipona?
O yo monanana o hloka mabadi,
O bjalo ka Mphatlalatšane o a nkgahla.
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Let me cast you a story,
Of a boy none like cordy,
He who chose moss,
When others ran across.
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Why the sudden rush of blood?
Why the sudden fever in your skull?
Why are you wearing such poker emotions?
You have made your moves with no caution.
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Why squandering the who you are in the name of pride?
Why searching into such a helly whole like prime?
The companions are compatrioting at stages live,
Pockets fully of pennies this time.
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You are craving for me I know,
Settling for dust even on snow.
Stop already, I am coming you know.
All packed are swords,
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Quite place, my palace
I am here with thee full on my plate
Buderned is my shoulder blade
I come before you like a sugar cane
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To my Irreparable pains:
I am aware of your presence,
And you seeking the pieces of me,
But i have a life to live.
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Ge ele go gwaya ke gwaišitše
Go leka ke lekile
E fela ye taba ke molaba
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Bontšhi ba Lena le filwe maina a Borakgolo le Momakgolo-khukhu,
Bontšhi ba Lena le nywetšwe efela go bo ima kudu.
Bangwe le rutegile go feta bo-kgobapuku,
Bangwe le tšwa malapeng a setšo, e fela le tšhumile dituku.
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The pains of my pains,
Was watching you lying straight
In that wooden bed
Whilst mourning with pain
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Before thinking of suicide
Think of the helpless lying in hospitals seeking your prayes,
Think of all the innocent rotting in jail for all crimes they didn't commit
Think of all who died unable to talk,
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Ka nnete ne ke ipoditše gore ke waka
Ka ikana ka thoma go kganya
Ruri go se tsebe ke kotsi
Lehono Ke ikgonere ke nnoši
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My culture, my roots
My culture, my blood

I was raised a son with pride
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