Everyday grew like flowers under-
The care of photosynthesis,
Love making grew more with the true feelings,
Still unfolding more height like-
That of an iroko tree,
Emotions running dry under my love clock.
Every dream is like a roof-
Protecting us from rain fall and sunlight,
Putting much into her heart-
Yet my lover is wicked,
Where is the best when every-
Effort of mine seems abortive and sexless.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem