Tonight I write of a beautiful countryside
Nested in the forests, at the foot of hills in the East,
A quiet place that taught me the songs of Nature
And fed me with fruits fresh from all blooming trees!
*
In the morning, fine birds gather to build nests
Their strong choral concert disturb the neighborhood
Yet from the morning till the time the sun traveled home
They sang of strange places and gave noisy vibes
All we did was listen to their individual soft calls, which together was strong
*
The noon is given to the shouts of the children back from schools,
Back from the farms and far mills where palm oil is processed
The dogs and cats played with the little ones under the tree sheds
And when the sun heat went milder, they came out to the sand
The cries of children rent the air, heralding the coming evening
*
And when the evening finally came upon the hamlet
The songs became the pestle that pounded the beans in the mortar
With mothers yelling at stubborn children who went awol on their chores,
The clangy noise of pot lids and the smell of locust bean soup
Welcomed the travelers and the moon which showed the hamlets footpath
*
Now the night brought a mischievous song for the mosquitoes loved the night
Mosquitoes whisper in the ears of the heavy sleepers and woke the little ones
But before the coming of these vampires, the evening songs were folklores,
The lessons taught children the need to respect the elders and to work hard
And in the huts were we sleep, we prepare for another song: a heavy snorers rap!
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