My yesterday's Christmas, gone like the wind. In nostalgia I go back in time.
Children dancing in ecstatic joy of the songs, holiday is coming, no more morning bells.
In anticipation our young minds wait with bathed breath.
New clothes, new shoes, dad and mom, their duty to us.
Oversized shoes and clothes, they adorn us like beautiful clowns on display.
In huge debts of gratitude we owe them. For us a privilege we cherish.
Fireworks they christened it, knock outs we knew it then.
We strike with our matchbox to shoot in childish excitement.
Christmas rice and Chicken, we long to have a taste. A delicacy we may never taste again until another Christmas.
In daddy's motorbike we rode to Father Christmas we journey to. His bags of Christmas gifts we are eager to have. Santa we knew not where he comes from, some say he lives in the North pole, some say he comes from a cold place so far. We were content with our Father Christmas.To the electric dancing steps of Baba uwa we jump, to his bulky and budging stomach we jeer and sing along.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem