We are back home to our land,
Of a black fecund earth,
That sits betwixt Rumuji and Obele
To brook of your breasted milk earth.
Shall Wovrugo be back to awaken the red face shrine?
Far the city, I hear the echoes
of Ogbevem river whisper to the deserted Ahieke:
Come home!
To the ogada dance again,
O' Osongolo whose head touches the sky
Or Nwamaramma's beauty of the hither world!
Oh! Art and culture slumbered in the turmoil.
The eagles and ravens watched from the roof of OviriUvuahwu,
While vultures devoured the chicks.
The blood that dripped many years,
I watch as they dry down the earth.
Now, I recline on my grand father's hut,
Waiting for the dance of Amara-abali.
To dance to my native song again.
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