From high above the plains,
Running from the mountains above,
Life flows into the lowlands,
The river brings abundance,

The people bathe in it,
The animals wade and drink from it,
Settlements grow around it,
Fields depend on it,

Once a year flows the river red,
Seeping with the waters,
Blood from many men,
From an unknown source,

The villages know of its coming,
The people store water,
It changes over night,
The lifeblood of many passes by,

For three days it will run,
Then wanes to original clarity,
But the residue remains,
Leaves scars along its banks,

Reminding the people of trouble,
Showing them their dependence,
They cannot live without,
The fresh waters of Kalimite.