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This is a reminder of the forgotten cry for our lost kingdoms
How came bereavement to his house?
How came forlornness?
The sire of Awada lies buried.
We are lost in a wilderness of grief.
O Children of Ogili !
Whither go ye weeping?
To the land of strangers,
Even to the mountains.
O children of Awada’s son!
Who now shall hear our words of praise?
Ever will we sing of you to "Amaja",
Sing evermore at festivals.
O Son of Awada! Whence came your death?
Whence came it?
Whence came the fatal stroke?
Gone is he, yea, withered like the grass.
Ogili is gone from us
As water that dries in the sand.
O Amaja! Revered One!
Our vessel is broken, Awada is dead.
Would you had died of a man’s contriving,
On him would we requite your death, o Awada!
Death for a death, a just requital.
O Amaja! Revered One!
)
Who shall guards our cattle?
Our young mens cattle, who shall guard them?
Grief fills our hearts, o Child from Okpo!
For Awada, grief for the son of Amaja,
Grief for our Lord, o Child from Okpo.
Stay, o stay!
Who shall inherit this kingdom?
Who shall inherit this greatness?
Awada’s foes are hard upon us.
Mead he made for us,
Mead he gave us,
Mead in the home of the son of Okpo.
I hear a cry, o Revered One!
)
I hear a cry from the lips of his daughters:
“The young grass waves in all our country,
)
Our enemies are on our borders,
Drive them from our happy country.”
Come dire death and fell disaster,
Sporting with the son of Ogili,
Sporting with the son of Awada,
Who is helpless in their clutches.
Forget not, o forget not!
Life is but a borrowing from death.
The memory of our lord brings pain into our hearts.
Remember him in the distant future,
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