Let us go to the lake of souls
Where the land vomits blood in torrents...
I want to dip my hand in it
And taste my father's life.
I shall bring along a cup
And a black spoon.
Will you drink with me?
No?
I know where the lost is;
Between graveyards and cobblestones.
That bird of ruddy plumage
Capering about the headstones
Is their spirit.
It has found no rest here.
Did you hear of the skylark?
Did you see its free flight
Into the heights of heights;
Did you hear its song?
Humba, humba, humba,
As the hide drum played along;
I shall strip my body bare:
Will you plunge with me?
No?
I go where their tales did not.
I sink into deepest of the Kwa Ibo.
A watery son;
I commune with her mangroves and lagoons
That run into the sea.
My kiss I lay upon the first whispers of my fathers.
My footprint over their stride.
May they see my light and live.
I eat of the leaves of the forest.
Will you eat with me?
No?
Then repent and name yourself.
Sound your horn to the reptant afang leaves
Along the wood walls.
Do they recognise you?
Ah... But they know even my breath.
Did you see the last dance,
The one that had the earth mad with desire?
Did you know the footsteps?
Did you see the wide, smiling eyes
Or hear the hard clapping hands
Over the tent of fire
And the orange sparks
Spurting from its heart?
Did you see?
No?
Mma! Mma! Mma!
Of palmary concern...
Our chants awaken the moon from slumber.
Make this darkness beautiful, sweet moon.
Make the leaves black with love
And the skin of maidens white with stories.
And the men and the warriors,
Make their palm wine glitter with joy.
Did you hear her story?
The one about the lion and the palm worm?
No?
Oh man of no colour,
Have you missed your way?
