Isn’t life an Ethiopian girl?
She has long legs and hair that curl.
Very beautiful and far from fair,
Isn’t she sometimes the colour of air?
If you’ll woo her, you better beware,
She has made a street beggar from a multi billionaire,
A peasant from the kingdom’s earl
And a grinding stone from a precious pearl.
Life is a rock, not of but for ages;
It is like hope for prisoners in cages.
Life is also sand, sinking sand;
It offers death in a way that it becomes grand.