Before we came here, I,
With other wayfarers
Have chosen ours.
Before the river of fate
Have we washed our naked bodies.
Before the palmist of destinies
Have we covered our dreams with obsolete palms.
Before the psalmist of songs
Have we chosen dirges as choruses.
Under the pregnant clouds
Have we chosen the tethers of rain.
Before our homeland
Did we pledge detriments.
Before you my love
Will I revert my fate.
Will I undress off the coat of misery,
Off the choice of penury.
I will before you cut the tang of troubles
Tied to my tied cuds,
To tell a fresh tale of palm wine and stupor,
Not another of stale wines and scourges.
Before you will I become a man
Not a slave dying in the hands of fate.
I will stand, not abase, before the room
Where they tied our voices to choose against will.
I will wheel my tongues to protest
Against the fate they offered your helpless soul.
I may choose to die in your place
I may choose to be on you death bed
And place you to care for me, you may,
You may walk away, staggering beyond frails.
But, whether you will will to stay
Or wish to fly like a caged bird tasting freedom,
I will stand to exchange these fates
That looms in the snare of doom.