There was a man
Before things fell apart.
But not just a man,
He was an epoch-maker,
A literary luminary,
The eagle on an iroko tree.
Death came and made him
A citizen of the immortal pantheon.
Chinua, the man who stood on a pen
And crossed great seas and rivers of the World.
Through the anthills of the savannah,
Idemili has led Chinua
To the Elysian Fields,
Leaving behind outstanding embers
From a dying fire.
A man of all people is gone.
Our minds are no longer at ease.
Girls at war: Boys not smiling!
Even the tortoise has abandoned his disappearing palmfruit.
We are all shot by arrow of God.
Whose hands can the drum concur with better?
Who else can make honey flow from the flute?
Which other leopard has spots of many colors?
Who can wear the great shoes of Chinua?
Beware soul brother!
The tireless hand of death still roams.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem