Àkànní’s palmwine is the King’s delight
The bringer of humor and life into the King’s chamber
 Àkànní never disenchants the king
He never tastes of his own brew, but he loves the art of tapping for the King’s helm
Àkànní Olope, the master of the palm tree
The master of the Wine, the master of the King.
Àdùké is the King’s court entertainer
Her waist beads the king’s ecstasy
Her anklets like the rattling of a Snake in the sand dunes of the North
The thoughts of Her oblong face keeps the King warm through the night.
The harmony between her feet and the loamy earth keeps royalty on the edge of his throne
Her bosom a delight to his loins
She never looks him in the eye
She let her feet into lips that mutter beauty as she moves them to the percussion of the night
Àkànní’s palmwine is bliss this dusk
Àdùké’s beads red as palm oil
Her face shone in the moonlight like fresh milk from the cattle
A little more palmwine in the King’s gourd
A little closer Àdùké gets to the King’s chamber
A little closer Àdùké got to the king’s bed
A little farther the spying moon moves in the skies
Not only Àkànní’s palmwine intrigues the king tonight
A gourd of wine and his Aládùké  to dine
Àdùké temi nikan
Warming the bed of the king
Fury and revenge fills the heart of Akanni
He has watched the covetous eyes of the Kings on his woman.
Seasons are born and Seasons die,
The pain he carried around him like a gourd
The king owns all, not his Aládùké
What Madness is it to confront a king?
What cowardice is it look at your property mauled by another?
He remembers the proverb of his father Àjàní
Ojú l’ásán O sé se wèrè (Madness cannot be displayed with normalty)
A gourd of his wine down the throat and two and three
The spying moon, shy of the happenings hides itself in the clouds
The stars travel afar into the Northern skies
Àkànní brandishes his cutlass as if a hoe
And his mind on the King’s head, a yam due for harvesting

3 thoughts on “Ojú l’ásán O sé se Wèrè

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