When the rythm
Of the rooster echoes at noon
And the palm wine tapper
Is on his way to the tall palms
Call me to wet my whetted appetite
With the liquor that
My folks have refused to relish.
I will follow him
Help hold the brown gourd
That will take the liquid home
And drive the folklore
Oozing from my grandma's mouth
All the animals in the tale
I will cut their tails
And refuse them a drink
Eventhough they will
Make me laugh.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem