Nothing prepared me for Ayo Olukotun: I Hear Your Voice in the Wind by Ojogbon Toyin Falola, not In Memoriam , not even regular readings from my beautiful Yoruba Bible (ETCHES ON FRESH WATERS - no gimmicks, the very best imaginable compendium of Yoruba folk wisdom, social skills, with several anthologies of poetry on various rites of passage themes)
Memory and loss. Perhaps, because the subject, the dearly departed Ayo Olukotun is so dear to me and all his other admirers and mourners, at the very first reading of this dirge, that long still moment where heart and mind, or even heart and loss of mind or mindfulness of time come together, it's a kind of soulful synchronicity, the at-one-ment with the sentiments being expressed, spontaneously feeling the sincerity running through like an emotional current, like hammer blows, the cumulative effect - at the point of contact with each organic line, is heartfelt and intensely moving… this was intensified at the second reading - this time Akin Solanke's translation, slightly edited by Oluwatoyin Vincent Adepoju…
Sadly, we all intuit the omnipresence of the onomatopoeia in the original Yoruba, which cannot possibly be retained or transmitted by the most equally poetic translations into spoken or written English… and that too, what a loss
The child is dead, the door is closed.The wind is dead, the mouth of the jar is mourning.The bottle of wine is broken, the speaker is not seen.The god is gone, I will not see him again.My friend, you have gone without looking back.Twelve days ago, it seems like today.I hear your voice in the air,I see your fear in the water.It seems like you are somewhere close,Where you cannot touch me.The world is turning, it comes, it goes,But your memory doesn't fade.My head is full of your memories,And my heart is full of your sorrows.We are together on the water of the world,We cling to each other with love.But the world never accepts,It took you away, leaving a wound in your heartThe horse is torn apartThe big fish is in the water.I will speak to the wind,May it hear my voice and reach youYour eyes are closedWhat I see in the picture.Haa, the tree is beautifulThe bird of the field has taken off.My friend, you who have gone,Your memory will never leave me.I will remember you in the evening,When the sun shines brightlyWhen the day is brightYour memory is firm.Sleep with youIn the world that will never end.But do not forget me, my friend,When I come, please welcome me.To see the Elephant, one enters a forestBefore seeing the Little Bird of the Great GodIt becomes a must to go to the Elephant's houseIt becomes a placeIt becomes like a gatheringThe meeting becomes the last dayThe meeting becomes the great day of judgment.
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