What do i do now?
To raise this failing sculpture?
Chest broken, nose leaking dust;
The great oluwaseun is failing
The sun fades into nothing
Close your eyes, dear brother.
Pretty Seed of delilah, slay me not
Though Satan kills but never made a moth
Can we live not without your breasts?
She gave your a disease you couldn't heal
I'm writing this dirge for kings like you
Sleep on and on, dear brother.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem