In the thick dead of darkness,
His eyes shine like thunder Strom in dark;
Speaks with thunder in his voice,
Battle humans and slew them with axes.
When the sun has freedom from darkness
He wears fez to engage the day
Flies with the machine of death.
He finished eating pounded yam with the head of the family,
And killed his host son on the porch!
Horrendous fear of the day
And panic of the night.
He walks with fears
Death works on behave of him.
He who prepares to fight against him
Shall be afflicted with rheumatism,
Who try to arrest him
Shall be engaged with epilepsy;
Who walks in cunny way,
Shall be engaged with elephantiasis.
A great robber that wears a fez
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem