โย POEM ๐๐ Abubakar Shehu Omotosho
We Are All Fighting For What Is Not Ours
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Like stranger Iโm living,
Walking like of villagers,
My cloth is slight,
But my body is jumbo.
Diverse things I desire,
They are sheer sheen,
Like zebra in hue,
And I run fast to acquire.
Moon sleeps, sun awakes,
Wind blows to and fro,
Dove flies gently,
Peacock is proud of its beauty,
The things with me are:
Rag, betrayer, and garbage;
Iโm now like the wood-carrier,
Then, I strive to bear my baggage.
โฆ.
(Self-translation from Yoruba)
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