In the dryness of your savannah

The wind blows with mixed rhythm of hermitic and Kushite sounds

Amidst your light skinned daughters beneath the veil

Turbaned in the a tangle of symphony all around

How blessed is your horn in the east

Your earth flourishes

The green leaves and creatures from the greatest to the least

Your rich dark in complexion sons stolen from  your Niger

Along with your craft and Gold wrapped in a manger

Tales by moon light of these legends

While your children clap and dance around the fire like it will never end

Many of such falls at Victoria down to the cape

Where the tributaries of your siblings stay high in the mountains

Away from the cold oppressive snow of `apartheid

Africa, a coat of many scars and colours that glows

Always in the eyes of your love ones and foes

From time ago