( An open night market)
The dark night walked among bats,
Birds resting their lungs after a wonderful balladry,
The calabash drooling white wine,
Slumbering trees watched, few leaves dropped.
Atupa, the Moon’s bosom friend,
Gossiping how the sun missed;
Two young hands baking love,
The cool breeze their fire.
Ita ale, a night where cowries die
For the goods the sun could not hawk,
The moon returned with a smiling tray,
All was sold.
Ita ale, our legacy,
Her leaf must never wither,
Not in this century,
Nor to come.
*Ita ale: An open market where petty goods are sold only at night.
*Atupa: Local lamp
AKINBODE ISRAEL (Winner CBPC002)