The north east wind blew
Gushed and poured into Obudu
Palm fronds got a powdery bath
On every leaf some dust like the bush at Yandev
Where machines growl turning limestone into cement
Cattle egrets perch anxiously preening their wings
And waiting for men from war
Down the palms a broken terminarium
Laid in ruins and this where the mercenary
Waylaid the thieves.
The wind hung around the pigs and cow roundabout
Akasom built a kind of haven for the lepers
Udigie calm and full of drunkards
Bekpam is the cynosure of war
Where bullets wheeze and guns scream
In hums of bravery
And men see the fierceness of the battlefield
And women cook in subdued smoke
Lest the enemy spot their whereabouts.
And the enemies filed a long line
With drummers and singers and gruel and drinks
The war was cheap
But that was then.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem