Now the saddening flute may sing
Of the dismal harvest and empty barns.
We were told that hard work and faith,
Will surely make us great.
...
They have made me an owl in a marketplace,
And they say, pout your beak and hoot,
Stir the night,
And hoot again.
...
The knives have blunted,
When they are needed the most.
The road has become forests
On the day of our journey.
...
I'm lost in that thought again.
What if it all goes away?
Everything that we love,
Every article of pride,
...
In the breezy dreamy night:
They sat by the sloping road,
Watching shadows and stars.
And their hearts danced to secret songs,
...
Close your eyes, imagine
That this hand was wrinkled and cold.
Would you still say to me,
"Can I hold your hand? "
...
Someone will come along;
Say this to your doubting heart.
Believe the prayers you have prayed,
And choose to be fine.
...
What is this thing I hear?
Are those the sound of drums -
The blood-stirring okongwu?
Ana m anu: I hear you!
...
In my shy eyes were the confidence of pure affection,
As endearing words blurt from deep within.
Oh! How I loved you, first and ferociously.
If only you had not been a fool,
...
I blew my wishes into the wind,
And the golden flames were gone;
Leaving five candles with charred wick,
Standing like lonely pillars on a hill.
...