the face which had been foretold
to ward off the evil that lives within us
At dusk, when the sun had been deprived of its
Shiny pride
We hear your spooky cry from a distant hill
With your eyes, blinking at malevolent footsteps in the dark
And at the eve of hunting season, we mask your face
to send the wild beasts away from near the community
And lure the spirits of games.
Nche, Nche n'eche uno