WHO: kpọm! Kpọm! Kpọm! {Knocking at her door}
Do you have any rubbish in stock?
Her: who are you?
WHO: I am the refuge dump killer,
I am the slayer of pollution.
WHO: kpọm! Kpọm! Kpọm! {Still knocking at her door}
Her: go away!
WHO: what of the dirty gutter at the nose of your house?
What of the smelling corpse in the mind of your street?
What of the air you breathe and the life you live?
Her: I know my father is a pile of rubbish,
I know my mother is a reservoir of dirty,
But please go away!
WHO: kpọm! Kpọm! Kpọm! {Banging at her door}
Give me your father,
Give me your mother for I have to slay them.
Her: I know I have no name,
I know I have no life,
For they are the only things I have left.
WHO: kpọm! Kpọm! Kpọm! {Visibly kicking at her door}
Aba, your father is the haven of refuge dump!
Onitsha, your mother is the paradise of particulate matter.
Her: I am used to them,
For my heads love them,
And my stars admire them,
And so they are here forever.
WHO: kpọm! Kpọm! Kpọm! {Knocking gently this time}
Stay with your dancing visual pollution,
Dance with your dancing thermal pollution,
Flirt with your flirting particulate matter pollution
And sex your sexy sound pollution.
For I the waste murderer is tired,
I mean, Tired! Tired! Tired! Stay with your parents.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem