By Atok Dan
Roar my
bull,
Roar
Maker-thiangdit
Roar again in the pasture with lions
The
pitch of your voice solaces the bereaved
The
source of the sleepless nights for villagers,
Cry the arsenal
that liberates us of fear
Bellow
for the needy kids to rejoice,
The drum
of harvest
Thunder in
autumn rains
Roar
Maker-thiangdit
Roar
again, roar my bull
Roar
betrayer of night witches
In the dead
of a lonely night
Whenever
I hear your voice,
It’s
time to wobble about with your peg but verve
Truly
can you be called a piano that fascinates passersby?
Roar my
pride, roar bull,
Your
voice frightens owl of the night
The
evils that the village fear
When I
yank you for water,
I gird
for danger with my spear
My lung
boils in heat of the sun
For none
has ever existed
The roaring
of a thunderstorm,
In
autumn rains
Roar
again, roar Maker-agany
The exhilarator
of village girls,
The entertainer
of deaf
Roar my
bull, roar Maker-agany
The
monitor lizard,
Your
voice deprives birds in the nests
You wake
them in the middle of dead nights
The watch
keeper of our village
The
pride that my generation envies,
Roar
with elephants Maker-thiangdit
Roar king
of crawling reptiles
On the river
bank,
Roar tower
of pride
Roar
king of crawling reptiles
Comparing
the natural patch on your back,
It is
the strip of earthly Milky Way
A back
dotted with poor artistic design,
It is
you Maker-thiangdit,
It is
you my bull
In
pursuit of lucrative pasture,
We invade
foreign toch with our spears,
To let
you graze in abundance
Roar my
bull
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