Her image crumbled fast as ice,
her radiance swiftly dwindled as ashes;
above her head the clouds as clogs,
so that my bowels turned sour for AFRICA
I wail for Gambia, for Congo and Niger;
i wail for the coast of AFRICA rot in dust,
i see her portriat razed in flames,
so that my heart bled sore for her inglorious ways
Will she return yet with her sheaves?
will these dessolate places yield again in fatness?
who will break her fetters and ransom her fist?
who will save her from doom and my soul from sighing!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem, like it, a great write.