This sky of ours in May, is a mystic gun
Loading its easterly magazine wet powder,
It amazes you by not firing its liquid slugs
Such is the sky in northern Nairaland
This sky of ours June-July, shouts in military voice
Does it when it wishes to sound hoarse
Such is the sky in northern Nairaland
This sky of ours in August, is a geyser upside down
Never ceases to flaunt its misty garb-pieces-
Each capable of thawing any moment of the day
Such is the sky in northern Nairaland
This sky of ours in August rumbles like a horse
A horse that acknowledges the arrival of its lord
This sky of ours in August, grows old man's voice
Never ceases to growl like a hungry horse
Such is the sky in northern Nairaland
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem