Dàwarà
when again
shall I bath
in warm embrace
of her watery arms?
Once again
I want to play
bojú-bojú and chase
within thy lazy waters
with what shall I compare
the taste of her?
the flavor
of
Her spices, her juices
corn, smoke, air
dung, drum ... and waters.
We drank
milk of thy trees
coco trees
we picked
giant snails
in cool places
by the dunghill
we slipped
on feaces
and wiped
our feet with banana leaves
we killed
many snakes
on our portion
we played
mischievously
with girls
on mooned night gatherings
things boyish, coyish...
we swam in
Odo-oba
coursed the river
on banana rafts and bamboo oars
drank from cool dàwarà
we scooped her waters
with our cupped hands!
when, mother
shall I be a man proper?
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