Mohannad Daguit Ules
Oh Pulangui, as I watch and heed you go,
You’re slow, steady—and sure of your flow.
In both your banks, where two strangers meet,
Will there be a path, on the plains you cut deep?
Oh, what a lovely place to stay.
Where in the morn’ng, white Talong birds play.
And in the sunset, to watch your golden glare,
To the evening you mirror the stars’ flare.
And every day that the Pulangui flows,
In both its banks where two strangers go.
For each day the sun rolls—they meet, meet, then greet.
And so, the Pulangui banks shrink—now waterlilies grow.
Then the waterlilies join the Pulangui go,
Yielding to its flow—steady and sure of its flow.
And then flowers sprout from the waterlilies’ bud,
Oh, what a lovely place to grow.
And so, the Pulangui carves a path across two chests—
Forming deep valleys where no one had ever guessed.
Now two rivers formed, a two Pulangui joined—
Two with one direction, two with one flow.
Oh, what a lovely place to grow,
And watch every sunset as you steadily flow.
Oh Pulangui, what more could you offer?
What more will your bounties bring—
Nothing more, with your grandness though.
With each tide that cycle—ups and downs,
Or when floods of seasons’ crushing shores.
Oh Pulangui—you surely flow, you surely flow.
Even with your crumbling banks—you still flow, you still flow.
Oh, Pulangui your flow must endure.
Time may test your patience; tide may test your flow.
You must endure—’til the last sunrise’s grace,
Or ’til the last sunset, to you its last embrace—
You will still flow; you will still flow.