TROUBLES OF WAYUA (episode 2)
Even today my back ache,
Especially when i bent to bake,
My husband Mbila, a carpenter,
Made a bed that troubles Wayua,
Since it broke and hurt my back,
He supported it with a stone at the back,
And spread a lion skin at the right.
The bed my husband made,
Has turned my left ribs a cage,
My husband sleeps at the side of the wall,
For he fears i might badly fall,
Everynight we vacates to the floor,
(Afraid they might differentiate the snore) ,
The bed my husband... It cries when it gets dark,
The bed my husband made,
Has a tall pole at the front,
Where my husband mbila hangs his hat,
And a deep linning at the veneer centre,
Where mbila and i meet at wee hours,
It has a hook to hang a water jerican,
To extinguish the fire when his ciger lights the grass.
To be continued...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love the humor in this poem