Behold the besieged raffia falling,
The feeble walls bowing to winds
And their invaluable mural fading
Like wafts in the whistling wind,
The contemptuous sun scornfully patters
Against the god's scurvy head,
Thorns, termites, conspicuously compete
With the remnants of the forgotten
Rites in the choked African shrine.
A host of ravens and vultures
Pay regular visit to the somber shrine
Perhaps the god's flesh is ready to
Defiantly devour detrimentally.
We connive with the pink lips
To blot His extensible existence
From our altered mound memories.
This alteration gathers in his back
Some chameleonic shrewd neatly packed
Laws to chastise the god, though He
Flinches, He remorsefully stares
At his blood being fed by some
White hands with the unleavened bread
During the imported conspired consecrations.
He is stripped obnoxiously naked during the
Empty clangorous creaky crusade of
The chameleonic filthy fictitious Saints.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A host of ravens and vultures Pay regular visit to the somber shrine Perhaps the god's flesh is ready to Defiantly devour detrimentally......beautiful poem..... thank you very much my dear poet. tony