DRY YOUR TEARS, AFRICA! BY BERNARD DADAIE
Dry your tears, Africa! Your children come back to you Out of the storm and squalls of fruitless journeys. Through the crest of the wave and the babbling of the breeze. Over the gold of the east and the purple of the setting sun, the peaks of the proud mountains and the grasslands drenched with light They return to you Out of the storm and squalls of fruitless journeys. Dry your tears Africa! We have drunk From all the springs of ill fortune and of glory And our senses are now opened to the splendor of your beauty to the smell of your forests to the charm of your waters to the clearness of your skies to the caress of your sun And to the charm of your foliage pearled by the dew. Dry your tears, Africa! Your children come back to you Their hands full of playthings And their hearts full of love. They return to clothe you In their dreams and their hopes.