Do not go out
It is the season of howling winds.

Along shores and the rolling hills
Circles of lightnings keep their vigil
Thunder dressed in curtains of rain
Lashed by the giant Luma the great.

Red shades of the blood wood tree
Colouring the waters of twilight pools
In dreamtime where battles commence
Between the turtle and the sea sprite
Black bird mistletoed in land of bush
Where bora the hawk comes to rescue.

There the spiders in their noontide
Of dilly bags protected by crocodiles
Engaging in war with the malunga trees
Aided by snakes of red smeared manes
In conjunctions with powers of shaman.

Stealing reflections of the stars
In the constellation of the Aquela
Blackened by barigu and mimi spirits
Where ginga the python raises its tail
And touches the skies in powered gait.

Do not go out
It is the season of howling winds.