Ne’er, by my reasoned troth, has human soul,
Once, in Eden’s grove, most lightest and most best
Of God’s Creation, near’st to Heav’n’s purest pole,
Thus been decried, with damning words infest.
Thine insults shall I bear with patience holy,
Nor turn the other cheek with cheeky word.
The stomping, riotous bossiness of Nyathi
Shall ne’er the calm Ndlovine peace disturb.
Fear not the hot, empolitick-ed junk,
Embodied by the Tavli-maddened Buff.
Heed not the crazy claims, imaginated bunk -
The bedlam-house is common with such stuff.
Yet calmly, and with grace, fling down the glove
“I challenge thee”, with endless, patient love.
