Thou thee paths where we race
Appealing the whispers made by gods
This route were lonely and narrow
Making the burning fire angry in us
Still they sight no hope nor future hero to raise our flags resting from blazing sun rays.....
Hope fades into memory age becomes hope, fear of. Unknown masks at dawn
Arena were mixed with wails who know the departed this time.
Thirsty for more in echoing monument
Season of Alekwu begget it curse still this paths grow no old neither wisky rough blade it dry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem