Walking, sometimes running,
To the pastures, near Tugwi--
That's what it was, Tugwi,
On the other side of which,
If the water was friendly,
Was a place you could like.
But this walking, this running,
With sekuru, the young uncle
Who has friends who have other friends,
This has stuck over the years,
And I don't know why
The running never stopped.
Friday, December 5, 2008
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