We're alive

Must be a high time
Less melancholic
Hear it melodious: the birds sing
A hearty belly laugh: around the corner
Let us flinch: wash faces
What’s the going and doing?
Dance and melodious voices
What’s the going and doing?
To make sense
We’re alive

Must be a high time
Thorny trees wither: we see!
Beauty of this land’s here:
Green, ever green: insects lighting the dark
You won’t need a torch: mister or missus!
Belly dance: legs write four checking how long your beards!
Oil a currency and reeds fining learning
Bare feet walk it soft: jumping-running not hurting
To make sense
We’re alive

Must be a high time
Rough travels are high
Cycle within: twinkle twinkle, tis real
Over and beyond the hills and mountains
Come snow and heavy rains
Vegetation tower: weeds decay
Fill granaries and stacks of hay for livestock
Ever bright: never derive dark
Dark, the pioneer of melancholy off
To make sense
We’re alive

Must be a high time
A ceremony of cranes: we take chairs closer
What a bird which dances sweet
Dance with predation normally said!
As you see crane dance: overjoyed
Wild animals never think predating human
Lest across the border over there
Here comes green with currency:
Then white with gold: blacks with tusks
To make sense
We’re alive

Must be a high time
Crocodiles yawn: accepting air freshness
Albeit: hippos allow safe navigation
Pisces reproduce: friendly enough
Selecting the old with grand-grand children
To enter our nets on the fishing day
Plankton: we let be abundant
Oh, we were in the hands of strangers, they say
To make sense
We’re alive

Must be a high time
Making the land beautiful as before
Birds hibernate back
Seasons as before: no more embarrassment
No: that of seeing bodies lying down
Of their brothers and friends dead
Crane’s back: vulture will scavenge far away
No hoe: he leads a solo in this God’s temple
To make sense
We’re alive