The bosom of her virginity is all about this story,
And of a woman portrayed upon the walls of hope;
But like the horsemen riding upon their horses,
The kitchen is where you do cook your food.
I am not an African woman and,
I am not your African wife!
But the kitchen is there for you to cook,
So do not wrap up your nakedness in the wings of my mind.
Blow the ram's horn to understand this poem,
And take a walk along the coast of love to understand my mind;
For i am in the deep steep of love with a pupil of sin,
And she is not an African woman.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem