Poem 5
The Fake Oath: By Lene Ododomu
If a man does not keep a pace
with his companion,
perhaps it's b'cos
he hears a different drummer.
Let him step to the music which he hears,
however, measured or far away.
The gods are wise.
They formed me with a secret.
A secret that blinded me not to see....
my forehead without mirror.
I cannot see the back of my head either,
except their hot cold palms open.
Oh! happiness heard my voice.
I felt discouraged when he pace
B'cos we agreed to dance together....
before the king.
But seen their opened palm, hay me joy.
I worship thee 'O supreme wisdom'.
Thou made me to possess joy,
from dismay to delight.
I laughed at thee,
for thou was disqualified,
even not to raise a leg.
But thou can see or hear mine,
that the king's hairs dance for the
honey taste of my performance.
I was not born to be disgraced.
Therefore, I thank the gods.
Thou was distracted by the gods
not to disgrace me,
while dancing the king's sweet bitter drum.
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