Fulbenai and transhumance
Cattle sing ballads in bleats of the cold
Evening wind.
Torrents.
Uturu hills drum sharp beats of rain
Fulani and his son seek refuge among
College blocks,
Coldblooded.
Cattle fear to graze downward
For fear of the Fulbesireh who knows
Not the traces of the feet of the cattle
And their rituals.
Cold.
In my sorrow, I say no word to the Fulani
But responded to the bleats of rain-pariah
Cattle, now wary of the lost fraternity
Among them, the Fulani and his son.
Sabbatical moment:
Cattle on pastures atop hills of heaven,
Blessed white speckles - holy cynosure of painters.
The Fulani and his son -
Shambling wrecks and drenched
Minions of livestock!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem