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THE ROHINGYA OF MYMMAR
Nzongi Mwero
We are the Rohingya of Mymmar not spay,
A Nation deprived of its name many people say,
A Nation deprived of its language and the religion the Buddha’s say,
Whenever you look from the first to the end of May,
Nobody their problems could say.

Oh, therefore you would see a bleeding wound,
Emitting from a crying heart and mind,
In our blood –shot tearful eyes surround,
How we are drowned left along the sea round.

In the pool of our sweat and tears,
In the pool of our gushing blood the world hears,
We need the help of soothing hands dears,
That would make us condition bears.

We are not allowed to renounce our culture,
Be our language which is nature,
Be our religion and we are mature,
Nor our ethnicity and agriculture.

Just a word the Rohingya are oppressed,
Otherwise tormented,
In Mymmar are cursed,
And finally killed.

No education for our kids,
No food to feed,
No employment we are allowed,
And in Mymmar no place to hide,
Indonesia, Malaysia and Thailand we ride.

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