It was a hot night after taken tush Amala
And chilling under the flabby Mango tree
At the time air breathes it best
And the cloud smiles most
Lying on my grandma cushion
Looking worn and eased
But after a long counted seconds
I tend to be in winter
Seated at the lobby of White house
Facing the US Gen.sec with fifty smiles
After an unnoticed jiffy
I saw that young white statue
Having on her head a rounded pointed nail
Holding that which speaks peace
Before I could number my adventure
I was live among the Niggas; rusting under the lousy subway
I even saw the Califonia from afar
And heard the noise of Alabama from behind
I was on it till when I heard the grief of the cops
The road turned blue
And the sky; red
I heard that voice which sounded like that of Iya Tope
Calling me to come to my tent
For the night was always at rest
Oh! It was a dream.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem