I have come to lush grass and twin ant-hills
Mounting red, and butterflies with no cares
Dancing over flowers that would scarce hold still.
I have come to the long-hoped high hill where
Beauty crystallizes, and all blown down
Which veiled and fettered to the vale of fear.
I have come to the sprouting; breaking now
From silent seeds at the first touch of rain,
My heart sings at your sun's ascent and bows
In sad ponderance of how love ensnared wanes.
(Ogoja, Nigeria)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nicely written, Very good imagery.