The beautiful side of the herders and their wives.
She remembers to tell you they ruined a country
because her heart still bleed for her lover
and grief won’t depart from her until she invokes
what was written by the prophets in a poem like this.
Did I tell you that I am a lover of cheese
and Fulani are the maker of sumptuous ones?
I am sorry your father didn’t return from the farm.
Truth has an unpleasant taste but I must feed you this:
not all herders kill and not all killers are herders.
To the farm, let us go! What was written
and sheep dwelling together could fulfill in us, too.
And when this system crashes like a pillar of salt,
behold your father coming out of sheol.