I was born on a mountain side
Where the setting sun hurls its final radiance
And grass glows in golden fire
The valley dark, long gloomed in shade.

I was born on a mountainside.
The day's first rays of sunrise
Steal severely through a crevice in my wall.
Slim shimmery spears, they pierce into my eyes!

I was born on a mountainside.
At dawn I in the valley behold
A solid mass of white morning mist
Like cotton strewn all over, covering end to end

Which soon boils slowly like a magic broth
In curly wisps dispersing into the air
Till all is clear and the sky is bright
And the great sun smiles its laughter to the world.


© by Hillary Kuteisa.
Used with the author’s permission.