Remember the youth durbar
When you twist yourself
Like salted worm
At the blaring of wonderous drums
Flaunting your teeth galaxy
And the dimples on your cheeks
Those traits had been smouldered
Like junks of steels
In the hearth of motherhood
My woman, sorry woman
You are now the selfless wings
With which the household leaps
And the clothe by the doorpost
On which we wipe our soles
You are both the oak
That bears our weight
When we tilt
And the iroko skinned
To splint our huts
As you die so gently
Like a rose on a sea
I wish to embrace you
And let emotions heal your wounds
But sorry woman
'Helping your woman makes you woman'
Says our elders
Moreover, the sinister of nights
Does not make the moon call on the sun
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem