Walking in the death of the night
I linger on my beclouded thought
When has this river grow so hot
Where it was breathe life
The river lieth desolate
The goddess refuse to give her the blessing
Yemoja is now a terror to behold
Who caused this living spring?
This was our abode
This was the place of our comfort
This was where the women got blessed
Why has it laid in waste?
The old days of happiness,
When we got nothing to worry about
The days of joy around the blessed stream has been forgotten;
Who do we call for help?
Can this river be cured?
Can our land be healed?
Can the children play happily and the old ones joyfully farm again?
We need help for this land.
