Voice Of Irrigation Beams Poem by Haruna Garba

From the far farm comes this voice
Complaining voice of wooden beams

Sent prostrating, jerked abruptly erect
They have every reason to screech
In this disorderly, exacting parade

Down you go, down the water pit
Up you rise, feed the green field
Down you go, down, down, down
Up you wake, wet the wheat
Down you go
Down reservoir, you rob
Up you rise and revive the fields

And you?

With worn, scarred neck
And weary, rheumatic waist
Ends my wearing away wooden frame