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Polai


a tapping in the gully

a finger pointing below

an aching creak

the "snap" filling the valley

another Polai falling

red leaves hitting hard


be gone white man!

take your guns and axes

lead your horses downstream

the mountains are for black man!


don't worry us here

you can keep the plain

the criss cross of fallen trees

endless stumps and fire

your round-feet cattle

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