From the land of Smoke that Thunders, the waterfall's mist, A single Shona warrior opens his clenched fist. And with each powerful and slender dark finger, He controls her pallid breasts, and they linger For with his mighty clutch, he makes his claim, For these hands of a warrior are both, wild and tame. So as they dance, her pale back to his dark chest He clutches more tightly her round, white breasts. With fingers wrapped around her tender flesh, she cries, And their passion increases; Shona Fever intensifies. Until a rigid uprising of the warrior causes unrest, And he wildly seizes her as the lion takes his lioness.