I should have grinned when morning came
Atop posts of gaping day, with lunatics
Humming dirges of a broken world.
I remained glued to my gloom.
Rising from the pit of hell, I held
Concupiscent cats hostage.
The course of their waning speed of flight
Harmed my precisions.
From a boanerges' point of view,
Fierce elocution dampened by grey voids of
Unassailable haunts cripple the badinage of
Myths celebrated at dawn's memorial.
I weep through the voice of an alcove's
Muted spirit, one grace, forlorn and dew-wet,
Re-christened at sable-draped ceremonies.
Haunted by such recurring whims of deliberate
Schisms by harridans, I crawl on both knees,
Filching webs atop crests of arachnids.
I should have waved siesta's flag at 3 P.M.
Lush vagaries of new-sprouted greens yield to the
Mockery of phlogiston,
Leaving behind, banters from drunken laughters,
Crackles from prostituting fires, meek and ailing,
And hells of sweat from my aching head.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Like all poems by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu this is written masterly. I find it heavy and haunting, crawling under one’s skin. It comes across as an awakening from a nightmare. It feels like a journey through a long tunnel harbouring ghosts.