I seek a rainmaker,
my garland is going dead,
It pains that I write a sauded,
not the sweet moments I long to keep.
This once sweet has gone sour,
scorching the tongue that kissed you madly,
and my heart is wrecking again; so deeply,
someone get me the rainmaker.
I miss the sweet lullabies,
my garden stands no longer beautifully,
there are but heaps of ashes,
and the erosion of my tears.
I miss the romantic kisses,
that feeling between my masculine thighs,
the presence of an african queen,
those enchanting smiles.
My dynasty is breaking into a void
only the rains can resuscitate the dying rosses,
a light is what am groping for,
am a vagabond between the desert and the sea.
Take all my horses,
all my gold are yours,
only get me a rainmaker,
To call rain for my garland.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem