The sun went down beyond those deep blue horizons. 

The dusk, golden dusk like rims crowing the hills in glory.  

The birds, the wilds returns to the warmth of their shelter.

The homes lit up, the tables filled with dinner and laughter .

The villages church bell chimes, uncertain for tomorrow!

I stood on hill top, painting my face and burning tears. 

I feel nostalgic, as mourning and crying of the hill chimes . 

I see myself roar in rage as my mind wonders patriotic wishes;  

I howl like a wounded hounds taking down my enemies. 

I care less galloping down the village with blood and wounds. 

The villagers gathered around, some curious some hopeful. 

The menfolk stood alert, wishing for more patriot and gallantry;  

The womenfolk saying “bring the hot beef brood and rice”  

The fireplace lit like a goldsmith furnace as villagers sings around it.

The villagers singing “galhang la” reminding them of bravery! 

We are highlanders, Zo people living in hills as we call Zoland. 

We are headhunters, warriors and live in unison with the hills.

We call the Hills, Zoland, our mother, and we her children;

We fight for our land and people, we willingly give our lives.   

Dated: 21/05/2023

Time: 5:55 PM