Beauty as a peach
Flows through the wells into our farms
Its colour charcoal like,
The floating epo is good enough for our vegetable soup
Ifara is innocent,
she only suffers from the anger of her people.
We no longer farm fresh
Ifara fishes float
She suffers from the long existing mistake of her fore fathers
Seasons have passed
Still no solution
Children empty their tears into Ifara River hoping it become spring.
Ifara may be tired
It seeks an advice.
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