This is a tale of a broken heart
This is the news that was whispered in the market.
When I saw the maid from Mazi Nduka's house
I dreamt she was my spouse
So that my melancholy days were no more
That gentle sadness, which began when mama whom I adore
Joined our ancestors, my heart now abhor.
Asam, my comely maid is the delicious soup
Everyone wants a taste of it, I am the owner
Of the three storey building near my father's compound
I acted like a child who had a new cloth, I waited
Under the mango tree, for the maid whose sight abated
My ache, my pain. I called her nwam, my baby. nwam oma; fine baby
She smiled. she laughed.
Her black skin shone from the palm kernel oil, mmanuaki
Her grandma had made.
Her eyes is a mirror; the glorious stars's abode
Her hair is the thick forest of Amuzo
I held her hands and told her the story my mother told me
How the princess of Amuzo long ago
Became fair to look upon because she danced well
At the festival of the new yam.
My Asam laughed and whispered to me
She whispered to me she was as innocent as the day she was born
That the wall between her legs were waiting for me
In three market days, kola nuts and palm wine
Shall see the kinsmen of my beloved
My father shall say we want the beautiful
Flower in Mazi Nduka's house
Or the she goat in his compound.
I like the proverbs of my people,
But I love our prospective conjugal right
My mind envisions.
Last night, I heard the gong of the town crier
Every one went to the town hall;
Three maidens must cross the river of Amuzo
That river which turns red at night, and
Swallows the girl who losses her shoe
Three pure maidens, must bring a pink pebble
From the bank of the river, or be married to the king
My departed fever jumped into me
Next thing I saw my self seated beside
My ancestors. Then like a scene seen from afar
I beheld my Asam, thrust a metal blade
Into her flesh.