(By Yared Huluf) –
Wildly flick the strings to strum
So as to dispel the gloom, glum spum,
The diablerie Amharas instilled
In your spinal filum
This time, let the Angels abseil down and come,
To rejoice your sense of freedom
From the kingdom of serfdom.
Pull the trigger, the barrel to hum,
Burn the darkness with light and flame!
Beat the drum
This time round real hard
Until the knuckles feel sore,
And swollen goes the arms.
Hard beat receive, Oh! African drum,
So what if the there is a bit of knuckle Harm,
If only to wake up the mind that had gone numb.
Yes, beat the drum
The children out they come
In trance and flanged arms
Dance to the tune and hums
To the seductive call of death in
defense of battered Mums.
Let their voice rise to a thunderous roar,
Their faces blazed in anger
Rupturing the passive outer cover
To release the indomitable magma,
That is buried under
Unremittingly meander,
Like a gentle turned deadly river.
Let the guns roar
And drench the covetous ghoul
With lead and sulfur,
Cauterise the skin,
In pain running the last run
In search of a shelter,
That can be found nowhere.
Shake the feet of the aggressor in tremor.
Inflict his heart with terror.
Once again,
For failing to learn,
That there is nothing to gain
When the sleeping giant awakes
Just to discover vultures
Pecking the scab of his wound
He had rather long left to heal.