Dreaming the lives of the ancestors,
you awake, justly terrified of this world:
you could dance underwater and not get wet,
you hear, but the pressure is drowning you:
you're awake, but just terrified of this world,
where all solids are ice: underwater boogie,
you hear, but the press sure is drowning you:
the igbo were walking, not dancing:
where all solids are ice, underwater boogie
is good advice, because they're quick to melt:
the igbo were straight up walking, not dancing:
and you've still got to get through this life:
take my advice, quickly: they're melting:
you could dance underwater and not get wet:
and you've got to, to get through this life still
dreaming the lives of the ancestors
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem