Carefully weave (the sets of kingship)
Hear all and weave
Weave as your grandfather did
Weave as your first ancestor did
You are a match for even the wily men of the town of Debera of the Fig Trees
Dabaga of the large “Damsa” tree, the town of Dall is yours
In Debera a Kauwa Melemi, your ancestor (is buried)
In Tumbur a Kauwa Melemi, your ancestor (is buried)
In Gazajemi, Mai Biri Melemi, your ancestor (is buried)
(And one) in Biddum of the Rocks, seven worlds above it and seven rivers below
May God preserve you in the same way as he does not allow friendship to grow old
O! King, your bounty is to us as the milk of a cow which never goes dry to the calf by its side
From you we find our food in the evening, and water to drink in the morning
May God grant that we may see you every day and rejoice
May God grant the fulfilment of every one of your kingly plans
Always you are the son of Aji,
Aji Duniani, you are the greatest chief on earth
In your kingdom, men live in peace
And of the chiefs in their tents you are the greatest
Of those who wear turbans and those who wear only loin-cloths, you are the chief
You are the ruler alike of men who have a leather loin-cloth tied between their legs and of those who ride on the horses
Of the prosperous land of Yamte in which is the Crested-Rock, you are the king
Father, Sultan of Bornu
The Kurata Arabs in the Kanem towns, of you are the slaves
You are the strength of Bornu
The scourge of every pagan town, you will remain
O! King! You are a man in the prime of his health, and your beasts of burden are all in good condition
O! King! Yours is all the power, you have no equal
The plans for every day are in your hands, the owner of Gagara Wunji
Wunji, from which you sallied to take your captives and cause their relations to follow you with piteous entreaties
O! King, you are the bush fire which burns up the towns of the pagans
You son of Aji, can collect or disperse people at your will
And turn again, and make a town (with those you have dispersed)
You are the scourge of Jillam, Dalla Darge and Dakkinam Dalla Damaram
Some towns are founded during the cold season of the year
But some of yours have been founded as the result of your victories, Aji Gana the Intriguer
O! King, your reign is the equal of any
You son of Aji, have accomplished this
Some days of your reign are as the reign of Ume
You have made them so, son of Aji
O! King the other days of your reign deserve a place in the chronicle of Kings
You have made them as they are, son of Aji
O! King, you are the son of Hauwa, daughter of Derman
Your forehead is that of your mother’s, Hauwa of the large forehead
May God preserve you, and you will equal any of the achievements (of other Sultans)
The King is lord of the people who ride on horses and of those who go on foot, and you are the King
He is a fool who says to a King that he has become wealthy
You are the Sultan, who when he camps in the middle of the forest,
Causes a white town of tents to spring up, son of Aji
You camp will turn the woods brown with horses, son of Aji
You the Sultan, son of Aji, whose camp-fires turn the waste places bright red
Yours the town of Yambe and Bitur
Of all men you are the father
(When you go to war) your slaves surround you as with a thorn fence
And you can put chains round the necks of the slaves from other men’s towns, and bring them to your own town
Let your heart be fearless as that of a bush-cow, you, son of a man brave as bush-cow
Start up now with the fearlessness of a bush-cow and we will at once become joyful
Your uncles are all Shettimas, Sultan, son of a Shettima’s daughter
Your aunt Zainafa, Sultan, son of a Shettima’s daughter
Nephew of Alima, Sultan, son of a Shettima’s daughter
A descendant of Derman who could accomplish all he set before him
You too can utterly destroy the pagans’ towns
There is no one to gainsay you over any of your projects
If intrigue were your object, no one could withstand it
If the place of your intrigue were known no one dare point it out
The cities of Yam and Yaman are yours, descendant of Derman the Powerful
And you can at will destroy the pagans’ towns
There is no one to oppose himself to you
Fusam Burud is my father’s sister
Aman Leman my mother’s brother
I am your humble servant.