The road you have walked,
The long dusty road,
Whose beginning and end are obsolete,
This permanent scar on earth,
That hardly talks to whoever on it walks;
Thence them surprise with misfortunes:
Deserves great honour.
It ushered father into manhood,
With a brain to wire our manners right,
And to quench thirst of knowledge seekers for ages.
To the heart of the Great Rift,
Wherein a fine poet I'm blossoming--
Upon gulping several glasses of madness,
It guided me,
The road you have walked,
Deserves great honour!
The road you have walked,
Brother, isn't for all,
Though it's written otherwise!
Many have opted out,
For they lack shoes;
With which to crack murrams,
And break thorns on the way...
But you, son of my father,
Lock of my mother's womb,
I salute you!
You who defied the cold,
At a time when cockerels were too weak to crow,
And frogs couldn't croak:
To withstand embalu,
Have done us proud.
I salute you!
You've walked in the rain,
Waded in the mad,
Survived the scorching sun;
And still stood amidst violent winds...
You've ingested lots of nonsense,
And worshiped every useless god,
Till the planting season...
For success we pray,
When comes time for harvesting...
embalu-- Bukusu for the circumciser's knife.
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