I street Sweeper,

I could you tell you my dreams!

While I sweep, sweep clean all the alleys and bins,

When I sing, sing songs of the cars and the clothes,

That maybe one day, would give me a face and a name.


I street sweeper,

I move, move because I am invisible,

I know, know because I have no voice,

I am allowed to see, see because I am blind,

This is why I am trusted with the secrets of this city.


I street sweeper,

Have a kanga for the naked and mad,

Pick up the wrappers and packs,

Of a population of people who have no time for people,

Who are without face, without name!


I street sweeper,

Take whatever scraps remain,

Make a home of whatever is strong,

And a meal at the brink of rot,

A song of the city dwellers.


I street sweeper,

A palm frond for a broom,

A ghost worker for a colleague,

Who earns more from littering,

Than I do from cleaning!


I street sweeper,

Wheelbarrow, broom and dustpan in tow,

Overalls, headscarf and sore eyes ensemble,

Sweep, sweep while you sleep,

Live and die without an obituary.




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