when baba lied about the harry
at the Lagos gate
It was tin nubble that dropped
and the light draggles to off
beholding in a fash like ola to
see through it days later,
and the lie in our government
will release the false some days later,
play tricks like a San wars loo,
even though a victim like him
will not dance to our hos banjo,
and that made us still
in our boubou harry cloth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem