FLYING DARK BIRDS
If heaven clap will I dance?
If ocean sing will I swim?
On my back they rest and fence;
The black dew from heaven whim.
In this big cloud fifty four stars are hid,
The giant star my fate reside.
My Africa, dark Africa, our Africa.
Home of nature harbour;
From cradle till dawn of day sweetly savour.
Painted with rainbow of night not dark in being.
Though the beauty fed the night in view of day her glory sing.
Testify my words Mandela;
Here must be the domain of celestia.
Blossom greens fault not, on golden stand the terrain,
Shall we forfeit all for alien to arraign?
Is this not puncture of mortal sword left on our eyes?
Shall those golden age be gone in ice?
Tractor they road our wealth asunder;
The racist brother up there!
In decades' decay we wet in nude,
Catching cold amidst copious clothe,
Are we insane? Certainly not!
Our clothes they stole to cover their chest.
When shall we home our lost heritage?
The rich one are gone in air space;
Yet the one in our hands shall we throw them to fade?
Oh, the slavery of old we cherish like seasoned vegetable.
Prudent! Fail not further thy father,
The season to wear her new day is now, thy mother.
Comfort her to cry no more with gore, but wonder.
Revolt shall I medicine to heal her illness in shelter.
When will my mother crippled legs leap, Africa?
The featherless birds must now fly!
My Africa, my Africa.