O! I see it coming gently to my dormant vision
sun-setting on the fore
of re awakening ray
sipping through some plucked feathers
thirsty for second flight
under the juniper tree of depression
O my beautiful damsel,
How old are thou?
For the season of your beauty is getting darker
sailing through the sea of faded rainbow
when ISAIAH FOUR VERSE ONE will be fulfilled
I see the tears of your soldiers
the soldiers of beauty you once trusted
I see the wrinkled on your lips
the lips once succulent and fair
I see the drainage in your river eyes
the eyes once powerful and charming
Your hips will become no man passion
and thy smile will marry the beak of tired vulture.
O beautiful damsel! Make haste now before night cometh
when thou will become no taste
for every MASVINU's waste.
By asaolu kolawole
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem