Sambaland is the rain
The one that causes the teeth gnashing to rise
And makes flown away dust smell like mixture of moon and sun
Oh my skin glows
But I fear and shudder
Aquatic Pruritus holds me tender
Won't let me go and dance in sambaland

But I dance still
Holding my heart in my hand
I await this itches against my will
My friend, oh, my enemy, dear Sambaland
I love you but I'm conditioned against my whim

Against my whim to let the flowing splatters on the roof touch my skin, but I win
When I dance under the mass droplets from under this Sambaland
The dry iced pebbles hitting my head
While I sing in the Sambaland's storm that pours on
Dancing to stupor just to give me a light head

That I may drift far from adulthood's drill
At my backyard naked free from prying eyes
I cry for pains reminded me by these pebbles
And I too don't see my tears
For it is buried amongst the waters that flow through my chick against my will still

And I'm joyed
Because I'm refreshed
The company of the sambaland and her many voices bury my aloneness
Helps me think and gives me clues
Sambaland works well like a massage after a hard day, one in which I won

by Eziudo Michael Nwachukwu

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