O luminous mother
that makes me speak the language of the sun,
now my words surely glow
with immortality upon the page,
my verbal ink born of a volcano,
my laughter becomes an eruption of joy
and your powerful name,
clothes me with the omenous fabric
of the shooting stars

O glazing cherubim
that conceives black diamonds,
and equips me with the sword of fire,
glazing cherubim,
priestess of humility
that gifts me with the incense
of wisdom and handsomeness

Indeed, mother Africa,
may your glorious name be praised
all over the nations,
citadel of wonder,
may your works be worshipped
in the temples of doubting minds,
may you live long to defy chemistry,
as you continue to conceive
black diamonds from your magical womb,
O Africa.
                          By Kakraba Afful