Ancient city
Hold my mind with thy tired hands
That I'll think of thee wherever I go
City of yore and city of today
Lonely lying on the estuary
Bearing a steady gaze at the tides
Of the angry Atlantic
Where ships berthed for human trade
Now thy ancient treaty is gone.
I am proud to be here
Where the avenues sway with hugging boughs
From the Atlantic sea gale
And where the fountain spills her urine
A thousand feet at eleven eleven
And monoliths greet a legion guests
As they stand at zone six
A missionary cuddles her twin
Silently watching traffics
Flowing in Ndidem Usang Isor
And Henshaw steadily watching from Watt.
The times of fear are gone
Only a prison stump wall
Lamely watch passersby freely doing their trade
Now I pledge not to betray thy cause
To keep thee clean
Give me water to launder thy clothes
A broom to sweep thy grounds
A spade to remove clogs from thy drains
And bring honour to thy beauty.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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