Son of a thousand fathers
The gloom that hunts the cradle
Breaker of mothers
By mischief of forces primordial
That is what I am
...Abiku
And my will is not swayed
By remonstrations of lesser beings
So when you conspire
With chalk besmirched men
To impose repulsive offerings
Eager to confound my pristine mind
To divulge secrets
Which anchor my soul
Desperate to tether my feet
To this sad sad country,
I do not curse you
For you are who you are
As I am what I am
So before your lures
Baited with palm oil and cowries
And goats and burnt palm trees
And shiny things
seep into my roots
To yoke them with this fouled land
And strip me of choice
I take the high path
The quiet road home.
The gloom hunts cradle. This is very amazingly expressed poem shared here definitely.10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow it's really good.Thanks for sharing