Elephant daughter take me back to my root
My tongue is allergic to the matooke bread
It peacefully rejects
The tasteless taste of it;
Twist me the sweet black posho
Which falls deep straight below the bottom belly
Its weight too heavy—
In a second overwhelms its attackers
To the floor of nap's ring. . .
Twirl me the kabiir bread
Its texture tender and gentle,
Agreeable with the rough hands of workers.
No no no! Do not bring me the slippery kwon daagi
That escapes the blades of teeth
Before appropriate interrogation.
Prepare me kwon bwut!
I do not need the mogo alutu
That drives round people's head,
Take me back to my root
That root that has sprouted routes
There where my pride wholly belongs.