I dream of Africa
and my soul dies a little.
I see the children cry
and shuffle for pennies,
while the Chinese laugh
and the fat cats grow.
I dream of Africa,
I see my home.
I hear that Highveld thunder,
and I see them plunder it.
I dream of Africa,
but I know
Africa is no dream
It is a camouflaged heaven.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem