Tata Àti Ìrẹ̀: Ẹranko Olóhùn Tó Bá Ìgbà Mu / On The Grasshopper And Cricket

Ewì inú Ayé ò kú rí:
Nígbà tí gbogbo ẹyẹ ò bá lókun mọ́ látàrí oòrùn gbígbóná, 
Tí wọ́n sì f'ara pamọ́ sínú igi tútù, ohùn kán yóò dé
Igun sí igun nípa koríko titun tí a gé kalẹ̀;
Bi Tata ti rí nìyí, ohùn rẹ yìí a máa játóò
Ní àkókò ìgbádùn tí ń bẹ nígbà oru, ko fi ìgbàkan ṣe tán
Àti má dunnú mọ́; bí ó ba ṣeré tí ó rẹ̀ẹ́
A máa sinmi nínú ìrọ̀rùn ní abẹ́ koríko tí ó dára. 
Ewì inú Ayé kò le è dúró láiláí:
Àṣálẹ́ kan nígbà òtútù, tí òtútù nini
Mú kí ìpalọ́lọ́ kó wà, láti inú ilé gbígbóná ni a gbọ́ íhan,
Ìrẹ̀ tí ń kọrin, tí ó mú àlékún bá oru l'áàkókò òtútù.
Orin náà dàbí ẹ pé kò tilẹ̀ yàtò létí ẹni tó ń sùn,
Bíi ti Tata tó wà láàárín àwọn koríko orí òkè. 

On The Grasshopper and Cricket

The poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the Grasshopper’s- he takes the lead
In summer luxury,- he has never done With his delights; for when tired out with fun He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
The Cricket’s song, in warmth increasing ever, And seems to one in drowsiness half lost, 
The Grasshopper’s among some grassy hills.

~John Keats (short poem)

Ọ̀rọ̀ Nípa Olùtúmọ̀:

Olúwáfẹ́mi Kẹ́hìndé jẹ́ ọmọ ìpínlẹ̀ Ọ̀yọ́, tí a bí ní ìlú Ìbàdàn. Ó kẹ́kọ̀ọ́ gboyè B.A nínu ẹ̀kọ́ Ìmọ̀ Ẹ̀dá Èdè àti Èdè Yorùbá ní Ilé-ẹ̀kọ́ gíga Yunifásitì Adékúnlé Ajásin Àkùngbá Àkókó. Ònkọ̀wé ni, ó sì fẹ́ràn Èdè àti Àṣà Yorùbá gidi gan.

Àwòrán ojú ìwé yìí jẹ́ ti Nigeria culture image on wheather https://www.google.com/search?client=ms-opera-mini-android&channel=new&biw=412&bih=658&tbm=isch&sxsrf=ALiCzsZX3mE4al1Mv_zfGqYuA6A-sGpUgw%3A1671818955739&sa=1&q=nigerian+art+images+on+wheather+and+season

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