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.
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