Over these valleys and our small mountains, the bewitched tentacles are hovering,
Spreading and spitting its dark poisonous wisdom over this land,
Its dark hearts clamping evil in our souls, and hatred to ourselves
The loathsome neighborliness and structural decay
Breeds its ugly threshold as our legs fall asunder
Foundations of our house are eaten by termites
And will soon fall over our heads
The grasses for our herds are a flame and running away from us,
As the invasion takes effect and everyone is left in the cold
They feel warm and confined in their own comfort
Within the haunted shadows of gluttony and rivalry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem