I ask myself, brother of mine
Outside the halo of flies
That buzz in tight anger
Hot after your filth.

Why kill yourself like this?
This is only a city
Nothing special here
That you missed in the village

Go back and till the land –
You can’t till the tar, or the pavement
There you won’t go far.

You are not a moth
You are not crazy for glow
Of the cloth
That you can’t sow –
Are you a moth?

Greasy greasy
Go back ekhaya
And take it easy