Mwogo is not a place to swim.
That river is always angry.
It enjoys to destroy.
To steal people’s cows is its goal.
It recovers from its grief only when it makes people distressed.
It burns of great thirst even when the sky is cloudy.
It attacks its border.
Young cows don’t go to drink there.
It always carries an ax, and its furious rush of currents
of mothers’ tears, have made it crawl on its banks.
This lion is roaring, it raves and boasts.
Everywhere there are screams,
it shakes and swings
when it moves forward it shoots spears and vomits blood.