Have become a barrier To sing of your beauty anymore ! As tradition may have it , I ’ m the man who ’ s supposed to play the drums , The drums that the dead played And our ancestors tuned out deaf ears But the songs which tradition forbids , Who ' ll sing them without being melted By the wraths of the gods ?
Hear this , the story my mother told me ; A story no ears can hear without tingling , A story no hearts can bear without breaking , A story no eyes can imagine without tears .
You broke a woman ’ s marriage Because you felt you could — Due to your stunning beauty , A beauty that bewitched your star , A beauty you used as a charm to subdue him , And he succumbed . And so , the heart-throb woman sneezed out a curse And lashed you With many spells with her cursing mouth , At the verge of her dying Hung some inaudible muttering curses In her dying mouth . You showed no sign of remorse Nor did you ask for forgiveness And now both children and your star , You have none only but the curses laid on you .