Who can cease the fearsome movement
of the provoked thunder?
Who can arrest the rampaging dance
Of the aroused whirlstorm?
I have come crouching,
to arrest my game bird.

Adaora’s feet won’t touch the ground
She’s fast like gazelle;
men have shot and fired, fired and shot
but Adaora keeps flying high
beating their pellets, baits, snares.

You must see Adaora
she’s a real flower
she’s a rare treasure
but I am the lurking leopard
pouncing for my prized game.
I am the waiting tiger
dreaming about my sweet banquet 
wherever her arrogant flights take her 
I will bring her down.

Adaora, I am laying vigil on my door mouth
for you night and day
my arrow is waiting, burning, aiming
your beautiful back must grace my anxious mat.