for Keneuoe Moshoeshoe

to the lady that loves lesheleshele
and bohobe ba metsi,
the bread that home-grown hands bake

to the mosali a motle,
the beautiful lady
motho a ratang naha e hlaha,
the one who loves nature

to Moshoeshoe,
mosali a mosehla,
the light-skinned one
with likoti marameng,
the dimples that lie at the cusp of time and beauty

the one with lintshi,
the eyelashes that stand outstretched
in poised duty to majesty

this is your mmino,
the music that you listen to;
your ears dancing to words
tapping on African drum

thothokiso ena ke ngolla
ngoana naha ya lesotho,
I write this to the daughter of the land of the Sotho

this poem,
this mmino,
is like a traditional muratina that you sip
at the foot of the hill

this song is the moving fingers of a flutist,
the rush of melody spreading arms of
freedom on the spaces of memory.