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!