I sing the song of the river from the grave
My tears sing the song of many spirits
It bears the message of olokun
And tell the tales of her brawl with otanmiri
That drove her to the atlantic.
I whisper the whistle of the wind
Of its battle with the tornado
Their wrestle for a tryst with the iroko
I intone the melody of the market
Squeaking the mourning of the yam and cassava
Of their struggle in the mortar to produce fine akpu.
I am the gong of the gods
The traveller across seven forests
The one that battles the spirit
With seven heads.
Give ear to the song of my heart
For I know the blood in your hand
The spirit you slain and their cries for a rest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem