Who sees the wind? Who has eyes for the wind?
But still the wind suits its nudity
With leaves dead and dry quick through the city.
Let the wind suit itself though we see her with eyes blind.
Who was is it that fell asleep at Olokun's waterhole?
Who was it that fell asleep sitting on the bamboo pole?
Who would it be but the great Alamu
Who sweetens with palmwine his akamu.
He who gathers honey gathers a good thing,
He who gathers falsely is the vulture that invites
His community for a feast of carcass.
If you come to visit me remember not to bring
A feast full of lies, but bring of truthful rites
For the wine of truth is gift to heaven's pass.
Copyright © 2014 Who Sees The Wind by Simpa Omoluabi
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem