The Travails of Man
Like a pack of cards,
Olympus fell.
Like the spear of a great warrior,
Senzangekhona has swallowed a stone!
Who will bear the pain,
Left on the heels of the archers.
Whose strength shall our burden rest on?
Ologbojo - your beauty incomparable!
Adorable with ancestral silk - perturbed not by the presence of earthly things,
For the spirits , you Stand!
Fingers crawling,
Breathe like gin,
Perspiration - offensive for the gods.
Our battle; a plea to soften the heart of the gods.
Red milk of grief; glory to Olympus!
Ours to ponder, earth to plunder!
Our sweat has no gain in reign
For rain falls from the loins of elders!
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