Musing: For a special friend

Can I call you my engine or engineer
You steer my desires like the wheel
You play the strings of my heart like the guitar
You sink my sorrows like the submarine
And make my heart skip beats always
I race forward like the locomotive
Up the hills, with force and might
You train my courage,
“Hope is a waking dream”

You fan my face with graceful limbs
And with your sweet perfumed papers
My dreams are your utmost desires
You pray for my own good
You call me a special friend
Nothing compares to your memories
Nothing can come in between us
Smack my hands when you act the turkey
I’m glad your even someone funny

My smiles come from thoughts of you
There is no peace in me, if your face I can’t see
And now I recall your adorable words
“Just be good and do what you should”


Musing: A Lovers Tale

“I will love you even when the tree leaves fall
In the winters cold and summers heat
I will love you even when the days are gone
And when the nights grow even darkest”

I submit to you
All I have and own
I am your servant
But I am your lover

The nights must come
But we have each other
And we shall make the fire burn
The flowers we tend together

You tell me tales
I tell you mine too
But my tales are longer
You fall asleep before my last

Now what do you see in my eyes
When you stare in them?
You sweetly called it love right?
But you see yourself in my eyes

The morning is airy
We stand at the curtainside
But my arms are hairy
And it does tickle you

What if I told you something
That I care about your happiness
And that each time you smile
My heart rejoices in a joyful bliss

Look upon me now am young
Remember this grey-colored eyes
Remember also my elfy ears
Do not forget for I shall ask much later

And when my poetry muse
You shall always be my theme
What more happiness can I thank God for
But for you, my amazing friend and lover?


The Birds fly away

The birds fly happily away
When the sun returns to her sleep
The wind grows softer with the day
As the warmth burns down deep

The birds fly happily away
To lands where the sunflower grows
And the mushrooms grow in hay
But the moists stay till the ‘morrow

The birds fly happily away
With plummages of different hue
And in strange tunes they cry
Flapping wings across the skies’ blue

The birds fly happily away
Wearily, their young strive to follow
Working, trying to not fly astray
And where the nests are they all must go


Rejoice: I’m an Uncle!

You have the bright eyes of a young deer
Tender, I wonder what you think
Each time your eyes happen upon me
This same pretty eyes that let tears fall
Innocent, lovely and specially gives hope
You pull my hair when I lift you up
Do you think they were your play tendrils?
Your hands hold everything, books, pen, phones
In a fine babyish smile, your mouth pouts
My little child you are awesome and pretty
And for all my life, I shall let those memories
Of the first smile you gave me live in my heart
God bless you my fine little child…

For my cute little niece, Rejoice Onyeabor. Very inquisitive and observant baby. Born to my elder brother and taking after him… I see my attachment for this baby, for all babies grow stronger. The future is in their hands, so parents; mummies and daddies, uncles and aunts, everybody, show some more love.


Musing: Easter

Greater love has no one than this, that
someone lay down his life for his friends…
John 15.13

Easter signifies love and care
The festivities rent the airs
And now we all love and share
For Christ came and died for man
Bringing mercies unknown to men
From Divine stores, made in Heaven
To blessed Earthly Providence
Soft airs and vegetable forests
To exotic wildlife and rivulets

Happy Easter celebrations everyone… Show some love and care. God bless you


Wanderer by Obiajulu Nwodo

Wander-man, Tiger-man moves; sipping from different fountains overflowing with milk of life and death

He hops;
From Jagua Nana to
Annan Wanger
Never satisfied with his own wife and life
Kisses empty sheets
Droops and sags in
Eating Bullshit

Wander-man, Bat-man
While Hannah cries
High five!
While Hannah dies
You tell her lies to cover up your crimes


Away with it wander-heart!
Retire so your palm won’t catch fire.

Obiajulu Nwodo is a versifier and a short story writer. Some of her works has been published in different platforms. She has some unpublished works to her credit and she is a good friend of mine.


Rhetorics: The bridge, friends, rain, family and love

What is better than bringing two worlds together,
Bringing life and earth over a body of water?

What is better than true friendship
When it’s all about companionship?

What is better than the scent of the rain
When it brings the reign of droughts to end?

What is better than the smiles of loved ones
When in all, good or bad, gives special fun?

What is better than the love in your eyes
When it brings me to Divine speed and might?

The bridge serves the community
It shares in every dream we believe in;
Involving friends, and their aspirations
We are connected to a circle that never ends
Love nurtures this circle and sense of family
Built on unconditional care and concern for others
Alas, the rains must fall; must fall on us all
And it tells of how common we must be
To one another; male or female, white or black
And the need for a long lasting linking bridge
For all dreams, mankind dreams of sharing


Sun rising

Hail the sun rises from the East
From the back of the houses and hills
Up the skies, just above the green forests
On the faces of the glittering waters
And the rugged patches of the dusty earth

The sun rises upon all little hamlets
And on all busy streets of the towns,
On the faces glad to see another day
And on the farms which it paints gold
The land marvels at her power and strength
The trees besides the rushing river,
Swoosh happily to the airy romance
That has come with the sweet smell
Of a beautiful and brand new day

The sun rises with its warmth
The rooftops receive her’ heat
Pigeons call from their nests
The shimmer fall on the rivulets
And quiet ponds in the hamet,
A blessed and calm setting it paints
Across the hamlet and the forests
On the striding Lions and Elephants
And even on little lives as the busy ants

Hail the sun rises with all hopes
On the faces working on the rice farms
Upon the Ostriches that walk the Veldt
And the shiny waters of Niger River
And the gold city of Johannesburg
The sun rises, waking us all

Good morning readers and poets. If you have been to Africa, then you can truly see what I see each morning I wake. Try a safari, watch the Lions, Cheetahs, Leopards, Rhinos, Hyenas, Antelopes, Wildebeest, Buffaloes, Eagles, Vultures, Civets, Boars, Hippos, Alligators, Elephants, Pythons, Co’diles etc feed and feel the wonders of mother Nature in a land of the sun. Africa is blessed with abundant sunshine.


Peace & War

“…Once we knew peace
And then a brother raised
His hand upon the other
The world was never the same again”

We wake to the sound
Of the buzzing bee
And the fine sight
Of green and clean fields
Loved ones smile and roll
On the sweet smelling turf
The airs blow freely
And all is sunny and happy
The clouds are blue
The birds sing for all
From the tall flowery trees

Now the streets go empty
The war machines are coming
Where will fall next?

Now we wake to the sound
Of heavy machines and bots
Trampling bulldozers and vans
And rockets waiting to explode
The fields are full of grease and oil
And even with patches of blood
Now loved ones cling to our hands
Tears for the dying world
Come to cloud peoples’ eyes
The last leaf fall from the tree
The world is no more free

What is the cost of peace
If we don’t understand the beauty
Of love and live, which we need?


The Painter

Once I met a painter
A fine and petit young man
At the corner of the street he lived
Working away, minding his business
And living so solitary, that I wondered

“Hallo sir! What do you really paint?”
I must have sounded sheepish
For who won’t call a pen, a writer
When you know the pen writes?
“I paint ALL things! I paint you
I paint all you feel and care for”
He answered, hiding his resentment
Or yet, perhaps he didn’t get my jeer
I shuddered, strange it sounded
“My feelings and cares, hmm” I grunted
“But now I am carefree, how can you paint that?”
He looked at me, abandoned my talk
And turned the board he was working on
A magnificient picture stood before me
Some hues of blue, suggesting the skies
A tint of greens surrounding the lower board
And a yellow ball which I called the sun
Then on the middle, was a lonely Elephant
Raising his trunk high into the sky
More like, he was saluting someone up there
And I asked why he painted a lonely Elephant
“Shouldn’t he be having a family, sort of?”
He shrugged, smile and brought the image down
“He is lonely, only to his thoughts
He owes no one, he fears no one
He cares and loves himself, as he is” he replied
Perhaps the world had been crude to him I felt
Like he understood my mind, he smiled
“Now sit right there, Im gona paint you”
He said excitedly, pointing to a seat
His head will stuck out
Now and then to peer at me
I put up my best smile
Something inbetween a tear and innocency
He was’nt bothered at my look
My sister would have blurted out
“Ugh! Please change that face, Oke!”
Well, I tried to enjoy it, while it lasted
When the boredom tried to come upon me
He then was finally done; with a sigh
“Okay, and here we go; your portrait”
He carefully, turned the image to my view
I saw the image stare at me in confusion
Or was I the one confused; anyhow
Someone, somebody was truly muddled
Havent noticed my jaws were dropped
Till when I had need for talking
“Uhm, okay. I can’t explain the connection
Of I and, and eh… Him” I pointed at the image
“But deep down me, that guy, that painting
Feels like a part of me, feels like me!”
The painter laughed, enjoying my confusion
“Well, painting is like the revolving Earth
Each time you try to look at it,
Each gaze seem to be the very best
At certain point, at the age of the youth
Things, reasoning come to you different
But for your confusion and the Elephant
Do you now understand why I paint?”


Musing: Made for you

“Come, come closer…
Keep your palms on mine
Look into my eyes
See how much you mean to me”

Come and feel my steel shine
Call me your gladiator
Your defender, your shield, your man
I am your shepherd

Have you seen my birds cackle?
Call me your farmer
I will press the Olives into your palms.
I shail help your dreams grow

Come and see my musings
I am your mouthpiece, your pencil
I will sing with my croaky voice
All night a lullaby will be, by the fireside

Come be by my side
I am your lover, and your my lover
We will make this companionship work
I am your friend, made just for you


Lullaby: Moonlight

The grey moon smiles always
And to know that he sleeps all day
Looks absurd, but that is his little way
He is not strange, not unkind and not gay
But his manners leaves us with nought to say


In you I see Gods beauty

Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight
How your pretty curly hair fall before my sight?
You look like the fine immaculate white snow
Massaging the breadths of the grey mountain,
Just that now you stand not before a mirror
But before my very gaze, my very own!
Your mocking eyes twinkle like the jewels on your neck
And it’s good to know you have been there for my sake

The cold nights mean nothing to us
You are my own dearest nurse
Wonders drive my wild fancy
I’m hopeful and not crazy
When it rains, you blush
And when the fruits bloom
We run together to the bush
Minding the earthly worms

Now stars glitter above my eyes
As the cool and lonely wind sigh
Methinks you summon the airs,
And the wolves from their lairs
You send the moon on vacation
You are an enchantress,
For in you, I see Gods adoration
Now I say a farewell, my dearest


Poetale: The old man and the Garden

Once upon my little hamlet
When the mornings are quiet

And the villagers all move out

Some to the farms, some to the rivulets,

Even though it rained the previous night

I went to the garden in the morning

The clouds were bright and sunny

The wasps and bees were out hunting

I saw an adder with her hissy warning

Also at the gate, a weary figure kept standing

So the plan for some tomato stew failed

And in my heart of hearts I joyfully wailed

‘Heem, Hallo there!’ he must have noticed

My approaching presence towards the board

He tried to move slowly, but almost stumbled

‘Hello sire’ I greeted when I saw he was old

He looked up, wearily his mouth smiled

He had grey hair upon his bard head

He wore a pretty fanciful black sun shades

So the smile in the glass made him look wild

‘Can I help you sire?’

‘Oh no no, your fine gardens I admire

In an innocent relieve I sighed

Trying to recall when last I admired

My own fine veggies, again I sighed

‘Do you mind if I came to have a look?’

‘No, I mean yes’ I remembered the snake

‘Well, I have got some seeds of Artichokes’

I looked into his face, it wasn’t a mock

Why must this adder spoil this, for goodness sake?

‘Uhm, sir would you like a cup of tea?

I wouldn’t mind if you spent sometime with me’

The culture around here, adores hospitality

I knew he needed some warmth and cosy

So after a little while, he followed me

Once inside my quiet and fine sitting room

My little citadel, pen fortress and home

Where all my wildest fantacies are tamed

Everywhere; Pen, paper and poems

And I believed he must have thought me lame

Well, I offered the tea as I promised

And left him, knowing he is relaxed

I made sure all the windows were opened

‘Ehen, ehen, ehen’ he sneezed

I turn to see him clean his and nod

‘Come, let me tell you the secrets of the garden

Trying to draw my attention

‘Make your heart a beautiful and green garden

Full of flowers, shrubs; sweet smelling and fine’

He laughed at my confusion and lay again


Psalm: The Stream flows…

” The Lord made the Heavens and Earth
And all the creatures that walk on it
He sends the airs and her comfort
To my weary self, each dark night ”

The hills above the ground
The grasses grow upon it
The Eagles whine up the sky
And the blues paint the clouds
Where the greens and blues meet
There is a fine tint, very mild

You made the butterflies colorful
And the squirrels to sit upon the trees
The Porcupines with fine spines
You made all men beautiful
Waters rush in haste upon the streams
And the winds in relieve, sigh

The whiteness of waterfalls fall solemnly
Voices in the caves reply to my song in echos
And the bats hover about in confusion
The world, fauna and flora, and all ethos
All migratory birds fly happily in echelon

The streams flow…
Waters in haste
To other lands
Quenching the thirsts
Of the clay, fauns, flora and man

I love all You have made
I am in love with You, Jehovah


I am: Three poems of Okechukwu Iroegbu

Hail the sun rises!
Down from the hidden hills
And up to the white clouds
The rains has come upon us
And Mother Natures romance has begun

I am a rainmaker
For the days are stuffy and hot
And to the cold rains we must go
I am a painter
For each morning my mind is awoken
To the wonderful hues before me
I am a farmer
For my passion for the Wild
Can’t be imagined or measured
I am a singer
For I sing songs in my heart
And when the Wind sings, I with her
I am a tale teller
For these stories are mild
And in the night, a lullaby it is
I am a poet
For each day turn to nights
And I realise that the pen has got a might
I am a lover
For nothing else spoils the world
But uncontrolled love…
I am Okechukwu Iroegbu
A common man of many deeds
But to Jehovah I owe it all

The sun sets before my eyes,
Night throws her veil on earth
The breezes travel south
And on their pathways
They play lyrics of sooth
And within, without
I see how lucky I am
To have your unfailing love


The Lords doing

Who understands the Lords doings?
Who can decipher all He can do?

Man made money
God made bees that made honey

Man made electricity
But Jehovah gave the light of the day

Man made fans
God made the winds and the storm

Man made the torchlight
Jehovah made the moon for the night

Man solve algebra
Who understands the working of the orbit?

Who can decipher what the Lord can do?




…Soars the skies
With the fine Eagles

…Paints the winds
Red and sky blue

…Watches the rising sun
As she wakes fron the East

…Tastes the grapes
Along the green orchard

…Dream a dream
And believes in that dream

…Rides the Wildebeest
Across the Savannah

…Fly kites
Which turn out to be air planes

…It is in you and me
And it can make us the best we can be

Is the discovery of oneself,
Of the true meaning of existence
Imagination, rules the world


Musing: Airy Night

“I hear the wind come behind me
As I sit, backing my open windows
I hear the wind summon the rains
And this time, night has fallen upon all”

The wind tickles my true fancy
It plays flutes like the Arabians
Who try to wake a sleeping adder
The nights grow quiet,
I feel the wind surge in
To arrest my tiredness
My candles light dance, excited
Bouncing to the rhythm of the wind
In this mix I am part of,
A cricket calls from somewhere
Seemingly stirring the direction
Of the wooey wind toward herself

How lovely, it is to write
To tell tales of how you feel,
To interact with mother Nature
And at the very end
I must be fast, lest I miss this bed


My Momi’s day

“I stand under the guava tree
And dance my funny dance
With one leg I hop like a mantis…”

It is a beautiful morning, mother
And today is a special one for you
I remember the waters and lather
When you washed me as a child

The nights are always cold
Even now I outgrown my babyness
I wake to see myself covered
In a warm and fine blanket

The salty baby tears of mine
Form part of your diet
I struggle with you when you dine
But you are patient and loving

Nothing compares to your love
I am a man, come to see
What you have been all this while
And today I have many kisses for you

I love you momi
And I love you again,

Happy Mothers Day to all beautiful, sweet, caring, loving and Godly mothers. I love you all


Musing: I wonder

I wonder if it was a crime to love
Or yet a sin to even try at all;
But then memories sift into time
Amazed to the worlds littleness,
The world seeks after lust
A shrug I must to this vanity
To love oneself is true happiness
But as the nights turn to days
And the days into past memories
It comes to me that love ain’t for everybody
I will continue to try to love others, genuinely
As God has loved me…

I feel absolutely nothing right now…


The African mist

The mists still settle upon the hamlet
The hills, the vales and the green forests
All is treacherously hidden in it
One must tread very carefully, lest
You step on a stray scorpion or serpent
Or fall into a ditch or a fast flowing rivulet
The morning took the place of the night
And there, goes the beautiful African mist

And when the African warriors chant
Singing the songs which frights the Wilds
I run up, to the hills to take a view
Hoping to catch a glimpse of the company
Up the solemn blue skies, the Hawks circle
Boys beat the bush with huge sticks
And men walk around with pepper stoves*
The women and girls stay behind,
Pounding, grinding, cooking and brewing

As my eyes wake, I see the light
And now it rains again after the night
I stay humbly quiet
Listening to this blessedness
A roof pettering; so mild, so soft
Drums played by unseen hands
Up and down; the tempo went
With much silent innocence
For my young wings are not hurt…
I lay to observe this sweetness

Pepper Stoves: A collection of dried grass with pepperic condiments stucked into a metallic structure constructed to have small holes that can enable the passage of smoke; meant to be used as a trap for the rodents of the wild. When a rabbit hole is sighted these stoves are shoved into it, and lighted. The smoke is strong and can choke the inmates of the hole, forcing them out…


March’s Night Rain

“Oh goodness it rains!
The windows clap about
And the curtains dance
To the wooing songs
Of the sweet airy Night”

And I can feel the rain drops through the window
And the smell of the new rain upon the dusty roof
The curtains blow up and down my weary face
All is cold, all is warm, all is truly entertaining
Oh, lullaby; mother Natures’ drum keep playing…

What sweet sleep the shepherd observes
For the Days toil has come and gone
And I upon my bed listens to a song
Which no voice or choir can ever sing

But to my bed sitted by the window
I lay bare-chested tossing about
From one end of this cold bed
To the other side by the window
On this beautiful rainy night
One of blessed airs and wild winds
Tuning in high pitches, sweet rendition;
A lullaby I can not find elsewhere…

I must say a good night to you all,
Oke Iroegbu


Yesu, my love

”The sweet fragrances of the morning
Has come to my nose and face
Yesu masoyina, You made this possible!
Even when I lay like a log of wood
You came to wake my slumber Lord…”

Now the mornings has come
It is still dark but very warm
With the morning, Divine providence
I hear the sound of twittering birds
I smell the airs of the dry earth
As the dusts suck the last rains moist
The wind is full of soothing comfort
I feel Your blessed and everlasting support
For the peace which You gave my soul
And also, the blessed cravings of my soul,
The beautiful faces and light I see
And the sweet dreams You gave me
I look up to You always, my Provider
My God, my lover and my Jehovah
And through all I do, You are my direction
For You are my sure source of inspiration

I can’t reverence You enough Father
I wake strong to say, na’gode Allah!

Na’gode Allah… Thank You God
Yesu, masoyina… Hausa language for Jesus, my love

Hausa is a northern Nigerian tribe whose cultural influences spread into Niger republic and some West African countries.


Oke’s Poetale: The Duck Tale

Once upon a blue quiet lake
Beside a green florishing forest
Lived a Duck and her chicks
All day they waddle about
Enjoying the peaceful serenity
But a day came and the Duck
Brought her chicks all around her
‘Quack quack Daak’ she began
Turning to the nearest chick
‘You have been friends
With the old grey Turtle
You know the Lakes’ waters
More than your siblings
But I pray, tell me
How many times would
Something happen to you
And you would learn?’
‘Quack quack mother
Sure I would learn, but only
When it happen, and all times!’
The first duck answered
Mother Duck nodded thoughtfully
And turned to the next duck
‘Quack quack Duuk, come closer
You are not scared of the weeds
You even fought off the black Eels
But tell me, my little brave one
How many times will you learn?’
‘Quack quack mother
But I can only learn
If it happened to me’
Mother Duck nodded thoughtfully
And she turned to the last
‘Quack quack Little Deek
You are scared of all ripples
And the neighborhood fishes
You have made only few friends
I wonder, but let me know
How many times will you learn?’
‘Quack quack mother
I won’t learn from any misdids
I shall learn from others mistakes
I shall watch the Eels movements
And all crafty ripples upon the lake
That are not made by my kind
And I shall always be careful
For to survival, there is no friend’

Well said Little Deek Duck! You would say with me, I guess but I think she is the wisest duck I ever saw in my life!
Sometimes, it is better to follow events with wits… Not falling victim/prey to what comes our way. learning from peoples past mistakes and not trying to repeat those. Being friendly and brave might not be enough to cushion challenges/problems/issues we face…


Musing: The Cricket and I

“Weet weet weet… Weet weet!”
I hear the screeching of the little cricket
Calling to the quietness in my heart

As the light of the lamp fade slowly
Then time brought back my memories
For in my sweet and lonely reverie
A desire come to me for some poetry

Left with the screeching of an insect
Which has turned to become a friend
Quietly in solemn patience I wait
To the crickets call I humbly listen

And when the nights are lonely
I stay grateful to God Almighty
For blessing me with this gift that makes all happy
And for this little cricket which sings me a lullaby



After the rains…
The white clouds come forth
The wetness settle on all

Behind the quiet little huts
Pots are filled with the waters
Which the rain has brought

And still the rain drops fall
From the vertex of rooftops
Whose head hung proudly

The roads are muddy and slippery,
Fine sand particles washed away, while
The little hamlet on the red mud sleeps

The coolness comfort the clan
For the Nights’ treacherous wind
Took her toll on all that was awake

Soon, the butterflies will fly about
The sunflowers gold will shine
As the sun rise above the hills

What a beautiful scenery to behold
When the sun rises, above the hamlet
Painting the greens, the faces and the land gold,


Tradition: The Rainmaker

“I ask for the strength of the rain…
Bring down the dark heavy cauldrons
With all the gross, stalky condiments
Maka agam eme ka miri zo n’ebe tata!
(For I am about to conjure up a rain today!)”

Chukwu Nnam…
I want to make some rain today
That is why I call upon Your Name!
Biko, listen to what I have to say!

I am about to make a deep well
For I desire to call upon the Heavens
I scratch the dusts with my finger nails
Staring up the clouds for a clear sign

I chew the raw leaves of the cassava
I spit into the burning fire, raising a fragrance
Hear me my God, send the rain with thunder!
For I seek now to watch the skies turn dark grey

I call upon the clouds and winds
Come about, push your little cousin
And upon the dry lands,
Now let it heavily rain!

Hearken to me, for I am but a little boy
Part and parcel of mother Natures’ dolls
I have kept poultry, I have tilled the soil
But now I seek to hear the sound of the rain fall

When it rains, let it flood the drought lands
Let the people come down from the hamlet
With calabashes and all sorts of bands
To take this rainful blessings, You brought

Let this rain fall both on the good and the bad
Upon the farms upland and down the valleys
Let it wash away the sorrows of the land
And let the green fields yield bountifully

I feel the airs gather around the Cloud
And the Cloud, herself gather above my head
I feel the wingless and graceful surge of the wind
I knew You would always uphold my words

I sit on the young leaves of the cassava
Humbly, I squat and nod at the chalked circle
For only You Lord I call Owa ra mmiri na ozara!
The One who separated the sea with Moses’ mantle!

Chukwu Nnam… Igbo language for God, my father
Biko… Igbo for Please
Owa ra mmiri na ozara… Igbo for He who makes a water storm in the desert

I paint a picture known to Africa. Some people are known to make rain fall at their will and to also stop the rain from falling. It is purely an imagined piece. The Igbo is a Nigerian tribe situated on the Niger Delta.


The First Rains

“Tap-tap tap, tap tap… Tap!
I hear the pat-pattering of the first rain drops
As they fall in quiet, indifferent but solemn grace
… From the comfort of my warm dear bed…”

The heavy wind blew up the curtains
Sending papers and nylons flying high
The skies are grossly dark and faceless
The wind blew even more harder
Bringing fine sand and dust to the door
And upon the dark horizons; come the lightning
Flashing lightly, showing off hidden silhouettes
Of trees and houses, which stood here and there
As the pat-pattering of the rains continued

The neighborhood grows cool and quiet
Wandering night birds find solace in cracks
The strong winds sift into peoples homes
Driving the heat as the Masai drive the cattle
As mild as the rains has pledged to be
The heavens stomach rumbled, but not loudly
Just a grumbling, one of a whistle-blowing
The breadths of the clouds echo after it
Belching in corners, raising a sequence
But the pat-pattering of the rains continued

All is wet, the roofs, the greens
And all that makes life beautiful
The rain comes in a grande style
This is his time, the time for some spoil
The smell of wet clay filters in
Nothing compares to the life
Which the first rains brings to all
The pat-patterings sing a lullaby…

The greying cassava leaves and stalks
The moonfly, the bats, the owls, all that can fly
The farm cattle, the birds and the shepherd sit quietly
Waiting for the morning, for the time the sun will rise
Hoping to see how bright the clouds will look
For the rains has washed the dusts and soot off
Even so, all live: faun and flora
And the nights ferocious shadows;
Quiver at the touch of the wind
A romance come from heavens
As a sweet and fresh smell of earth rise
When the pat-patterings fall upon the dusty soil

Now the weather is clement
For the terrible villainy heat
Has gone with the winds strife
The heat battle the winds upon the skies
The nights innocence and fate has been proved
Humans and cattle relax, so also all that is winged
The rains come slowly
The farmstead grow happy
As the rains pat-patter down the roadside

The joys of the first rains has come!