Here comes an expected season,
An expected season that is of cold dry wind,
A season which arise suddenly in a dawn,
Like an exploded bomb.
The membrane stitches owning to its air conditioning,
The body turns weightless as it swerve the skin;
An interim cloud was dropped on earth,
Like the evening sun.
It turns the body to aches colour,
It hung the fingers with an order,
Cocks refuse to crow in the dawn,
As the reason outweight their tongues.
The domestic-fisheson earth refuse to bath,
It only turns to cleansing of hands and legs,
Warm water would reign in such aspect;
While Vaseline and Cosmetics serve as an addition.
It is an unavoidable season in West Africa,
That is made by God for a reason in December,
For his reason we can't understand;
And for its might we can never stand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem