BUTTERFLY

(A Black girl asks the butterfly)

Oh colourful butterfly,

where are you to

in the morning so early,

sitting on the shoulder of the gentle breeze?

Would you come to meet the black flower,

planted and raised by me, a ‘Black’?

I doubted as on your flight,

lies first the garden with white flowers,

planted by a ‘White’.

(The butterfly answers)

"I value the honey, the stuff inside,

and not the colour and fragrance

and don't know the ‘Black’ and the ‘White’!"