Oh, what a pity!
Think of how far we have come to sing our songs.
Let's dance kachá, let's play bolebó.
The sihiri is over there, let's go take the first step.
We are the natives of this town
We must give life to our traditions
God will help us so that they don't die
I sing these songs to you, people from my town.
I was truly upset, but I'm not anymore.
There is the foreigner, the Ghanian, the one who blesses
and the one who prepares the traditional things...
I'm not finished,
I'm only telling you that our tradition is weakening.
We don't make the bulá anymore. There's the tollá,
take the children out and smear them with it like before
Here you have the rimueché, the botutú, and the rikallá.
Let us give a blessing.
Sibèba is what everybody wants and strives for.
But we are looking for the best and can't find it.
There is a place of salvation reserved for the best...
and we haven't found it.