~ Wiradjuri interpretations provided by Aunty Elaine Lomas


These words cry out and I hear them—learn to mould
and shape them like clay.
There should have been a time for such words.
for this word—‘Nginha Nyiang’
And a word for such time Guwayu
How clunky these are as I first stumble over them.
Grappling like the child I should have been when I first
felt them—‘Winungah Dilinyi’, Sang them—‘Babiyi’,
Spoke them—‘yayi’ 
Now my clumsy tongue struggles over each new
syllable my Country ‘Ngurambang’ gives me.
Each one I want to devour like the sweetest thing
‘Wiluray Bang Gula-dhayi’ I ever tasted.
I want to suck every shred of the marrow
‘Dundumbirra’ from each solid sound.
I want to swallow it whole ‘Darra-Marra’
to know what it is to eat for the first time
I want to feel like the child born to these words
‘Gudha Dhurrinya Nginha Nyiang’