Òkóńkòkó, daughter of destiny,
I lured the moon to Osogbo
Dressed in chieftaincy fabrics to Obaagun
Since the one destined to rule cannot be stopped,
Tomorrow my head will be lifted:
Ire lónìí: It is well with me.
Mother, dearest mother,
Your blessing I seek before I move into my husband’s house
I am not praying to own the sky and sea,
The grace I seek a modest one.
The fish gets its blessing from the heart of the brook,
The frog its fortune from the loyal brook
This modest blessing I seek – Mother’s
Favourite –
If it does not fill my basket I wouldn’t move:
Ire lónìí: It is well with me.
Bùlenge, bùlenge
The pride of the bean cake is a function of the bean,
The root of a lady’s pride is in her mother’s soil
Mother, you through whose womb I came into the world,
You are the open secret of my glorious flight:
Ire lónìí: It is well with me.
Oh sweet, sweet mother,
Pluck for me three leaves from the garden of being.
Pluck for me a leaf of pẹ́pẹ́ tree
That long life will be my lot.
Pluck for me a leaf of tẹ̀tẹ̀
That my legs may tread the earth till kingdom come.
Pluck for me olúyèré’s leaf
Olúyèré: so that I may sleep in the midst of children.
How does one sail through the ocean of a
polygamous home?
How does one acquire the wisdom that wifehood
demands?
They say you have to treat the young like gods,
That the larger the heart of the elder the larger his house:
Ire lónìí: It is well with me.
(From EKUN IYAWO: The Bride’s Poetry by Akeem Lasisi. Request a copy via [email protected] and watch full EKUN IYAWO video, featuring Kabirah Kafidipe on Akeem Lasisi & the Songbirds on YouTube)
Meanwhile, enjoy this cut:
