In the morning, tongues are seen out of mouths,
Heads dangling up and down with joy,
Teeth singing glorious tunes,
To celebrate his arrival.
Noon, while plant labours in sun,
Not a mouse stirs to disturb,
When hour strikes nigh,
Animals gaining ground to appreciate.
Storm is not seen but havoc is in its custody,
Why do you disclaim our gifts?
If seen, we pray you shelter,
Is it indeed necessary?
Woods are taking heels in the forest,
Cutlasses become too blunt to match trees,
Desolated are bones in graves,
Death, have you no conscience?
Here and there life goes,
In the night mouths shut out,
Eyes welcome half basket of tears,
The joyful heads start pulling off.
The land is of young caskets,
Mummy mourning in the sob home,
Knowest we the cause?
Death parades the unripe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem