from the west it brew,
leaving our men and women bare,
and dust in their eyes,
and some dust to view,
from the west it brew,
taking away our rooftops,
for the hot sun to dry our bare skins,
ready for milling,
from the west it brew,
tossing our children high to the sky,
we are still running to meet them,
from the west it brew,
covering our village wells with refuses,
the wells of life,
M