The flooding tears were crocodile sized,
But there were quick glances directed,
Towards the widow now bathed in tears,
Who to the devourers of widows houses,
Appeared as a window of opportunities,
The lusty vultures beheld her daughters,
Oh the vulnerablebeauties veiled in lace!
So shy behind the brown mahogany box.
Their preying plans would shame a fox.
They quietly hope the mother will be lax.
Then late came the busy vultures,
These looked crookedly at the farms,
For land is of no use to men under muck;
They dreamt of acres, deeds and luck,
Now possessed by the lady in black.
Tiny souled vultures who accept coins,
Also blessed death when sitting on grass.
These now happy begging and borrowing kin,
Before were fearful of the now dead man,
But now expect meals mornings and noon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem