Jeremaya.
8.
God sey, “Wen dat time rish, Judah kings with en ofisas, priests, profets and doz wey stay Jerusalem before dem die, make yu dig dia bones kom out from dia graves. 
Den, put dem under sun, moon and stars. Bikos dis na di tins wey dem love; tins wey dem dey woship, serve and koll make e kom guide dem. Nobody go gada dis pipol bones go beri again; so dem go bi like manure wey dem pour for groun. 
But I nor go kill dis wiked pipol finish, instead I go skata dem go difren place where dem go for dey beg make dem die. 
God sey make I ask dem, “Pesin wey fall, nor dey get up again? Abi, pesin wey miss road, nor dey turn back go pass di korrect road? 
Den, wen dis pipol turn from mi, why dem nor turn back kom meet mi? Instead, dem whole dia juju tight and nor gri turn kom meet mi. 
I don listin to dem well-well, but dem nor dey tok trut. Nobody among dem dey feel bad for di bad tins wey dem do; no one among dem ask sey, ‘Wetin bi di bad tin wey I do?’ Instead, all of dem just dey do wetin dem wont like sey dem bi horse wey dey rush go fight. 
Just as bird for sky know wen to fly, na so too, dove, swallow and crane know wen to shange pozishon. But my pipol nor gri do wetin mi, wey bi God sey make dem do. 
How una go sey, ‘Wi wise well-well and wi know God law, wen e bi sey, doz wey dey tish di law, don shange wetin e really mean?’ 
Shame go katch una wise men, dem go konfuse and God go judge dem, bikos dem don rijet wetin E tok. Na wish kind sense dem tink sey dem get sef? 
So, I go give dia wifes to oda men kon give dia farm to oda pipol. I go do am, bikos both rish and poor pipol dey use wayo take dey get dia money. Even profets and priests don join dey deceive pipol too. 
Dem dey trit my pipol wound like sey na ordinary tin. Dem sey, ‘Evritin go dey okay!’ Even wen dem know sey nor bi so e go bi. 
Dem dey shame sey dem do dis kind wiked tins? ‘No!’ Dem nor dey shame at-all; dem nor even sabi form sef! Bikos of dis, just as pipol wey don die, na so too dem go die finish afta I don ponish dem.” 
“I bin won gada my pipol, just as farmers dey gada wetin e harvest, but dem bi like vine wey nor get grape or dry fig tree wey nor get fig. Bikos of dis, I go let strenjas take dia land.” 
Di pipol kon ask demsef, “Wetin make us just sidan for here? Make wi run go di strong towns, so dat even if wi go die, den wi go fight die for der. Since di Oga awa God don sey wi go die; E don give us poizin drink, bikos wi sin against am. 
Even wen wi pray for peace, na wahala dey follow us. Wi bilive sey wi go rest small, but na trobol dey porshu us. 
Awa enemies don already dey Dan town; wi dey hear dia horse nois and as di whole town dey shake. Awa enemies dey kom distroy awa land. Dem dey kom distroy awa town and evribody wey dey inside.” 
God sey, “Yes! I dey send enemies kon distroy una and dem bi like wiked snake and nobody go fit stop dem. Dem go wound and kill una well-well.” 
Den I sey, “Nobody fit cure my pain bikos my heart heavy well-well. 
I dey hear my pipol dey kry for evriwhere for di land sey, ‘God nor dey Zion? Abi Zion king nor dey der again?’ ” But God ansa, “Wetin make una go woship juju kon make mi vex?” 
But di pipol kon kry sey, “Dry sizin and harvest time don kom go, yet nobody kom save us.” 
My heart dey feel pain, bikos my pipol heart heavy; I dey kry well-well and fear dey katch mi. 
Medicine nor dey Gilead again? Doctors don finish for here? If dem dey, wetin make dem neva cure my pipol? 
