The 3 Kings of The Bachwezi

It's drumming spirits and ghosts in the darkness outside my shrine
There's a rhythm I can readily distinguish- Ndahura, first King of the Bachwezi
Is returning home from the hunt.

Plant a herb of perfect deconstruction-
Such rigourous work in the alchemy
That an age-old paradigm gets cleansed from my initiates
Upon vibrations of Engoma Za Ruhanga
A bachwezi mutujune - recurse this.

Mulindwa andinzire
Should I seek to demistify the mystery called Chaos,
Or I am now in the abode of Chwezi's 2nd King.
With drums reminiscent of our ancenstors now in rock and gemstone-
Those our cosmic origins, from whom the Element of Earth gains it's essence and power.
Play me the long drum...

Engwara, Endobo, En'mboko!
Enter the Ndebele shamans and mystics-
Adorned in mouth-torturing regalia typical of possessive types
Up that huge elephant approaching us from a distance,
Sits Wamara, Last King of The Bachwezi.

He's a God,
Whose aura is mystery.
The many, they ask man
God dances to the Self.
Those drums of logic and magic -
Vibrate to alter the fabric of all your models.

Let's go night dancing...
On this night of the waxing moon,
I can definitely experience the spirit of a New BaChwezi - NuChwezi.