I'm curious about you, miss Niger
At sixty, you're unmarried yet you are filled with children
I term it underdevelopment, oh! unprogressive damsel.

The caterpillar is now eleven years old; counting from twenty eleven to twenty twenty
Visions planned longer than a long night
Morning shows off burnt people, burnt market, burnt health, burnt freedom, burnt airport, burnt rights and people's choice
If the morning is not clear
How will the afternoon and evening be?

We clasp our hands and watch
Or our efforts as low as burnt candlelight
As the tree of our success die
While we can actually make it grow

Will our caterpillar of wishes born eleven years ago die as caterpillars?
Won't it one day grow into a butterfly of reality?
Let's pray for our Country
But I'm really curious about you miss Niger.