Mercurial lis-som cutie.
Ebiere, your's ambidextrous "Chinyere"
all your marvens.
Peace shall be, spiffy carbuncle
to your lifting far space speed emerald.
My incisors are close to close
along bony-flesh Nigerian girl.
Your lamp-lit sapphire pounce,
the E-place of my inert is the throne.
And you intrigue years to days;
tame Jasper.
Ere love, our love,
is the after-glow shinning beryl.
I'll be besom-watcher
securing your sweat to embrace the floor.
That is if you work.
Nigerian girl, African girl.
Each day you implore with mauve x-fray.
At trace I uphold outré halter.
For impair I forbid.
Your blue blouse brooch makes me bumble.
Plenty have Negros to gird, if you're cursed.
Nigeria girl, ne'er today, a day or days
shall we negotiate.
Your glory is a blessing, my dahlia.
Your skin glitters at night and men
mistake it a diamond.
O' Nigerian girl
like clay, you're cared.
You steps out-sell cloud-burst.
In the household, you're adored.
In our continent, you're lifted another "Naett".
What shall I call you?
For I am feared, if the earth will wage-
a war against me.
Tell me, what shall I call you?
Lilac? African fleecy pasture?
The katabolic will aid yours chores,
not the united. (broom)
Your breath beats bagassosis,
and grabber, you guard just obey.
I mount gorge to give you morning dear huntress.
You are the rose that grows in forsythia.
I laud you, African bales-wood.
From the fir to the fig, you're freesia.
Hyacinth Miranda, great African.
Is it the osier of your palatial veranda?
Or the lapislazuli of your fine floor?
OH! Those black lemony tresses are the sensuous.
The teasel fashioned round your bed
I'll spray as my days may stay.
If it were precious-minutes, Solomon
would have a wife and no concubine.
Nigerian girl, you're my royal dainty.
You're a rare talent. Nigerian Girl II steepens the guts of the African pen- I feel it!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What more can I say. This poem raptured my heart!