I lent my heart to the finest breeze,
Sat my soul upon the stillness of its
wings,
And wandered far and wide-
Beyond bars of sinister clouds
Where the sky caved and fell-
To sip strands of a new sun.
Through the punctured symphony of
falling seas
I transcended the grey eyes of African
soil
Forged by the denudating winds of
wars-
Through houses shattered like kernel
shells,
Through rivers sweetened with tears,
Through the stench of songs
Canned too long in children's mouths;
Through the heavy lappas of Libyan women
Billowing in agony,
Through the ashes of histories
Lining the roof tops of Central African
Republic,
Through the heavy mutterings of Chibok maidens
Grieved, i broke into low-footed
orisons,
'Weep not dear Africa! ,
Our destination is a coast inside the
horizon
Where the new sun sleeps
With the cure for our keening soil'
I find my unconscious expression in your poem. It is really a lamentation full of optimism. Thanks for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
....Grieved, i broke into low-footed orisons, 'Weep not dear Africa! , Our destination is a coast inside the horizon Where the new sun sleeps With the cure for our keening soil'. Deep! thanks for sharing Abubakar Abdulkadir