Most of them are north
Only those of broken hearts and thoughts remained south
Dreamers of money
I; am a fool to write this piece
Wisdom is better at the hands of those seeking him
She told me of older man and their fortune
For a moment I nearly drowned in my misery
I said his bones are as weak as his strength
His eyes as dim as the colour grey, but once he was young and great, it was then when his fortune was laboured for
Now he is not old enough, but weary of life
Now my princess go find yourself a hard working boy, grow with him, tell him of the rich old man and the sadness in his eyes
He will be astonished and question and say a rich old man who is sad?
Tell him not to waste your energy in getting rich; my son for the only regret of the rich is dying not in peace, bur poor slumber.
The poor die is harshly, but where they rest is quiet, golden and peaceful
FLANEGAN THABO NTSHOTSHO
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