Woman of the hilly lands, woman of the hot lands
With basket on your head
Come close to me,
And fill my forlorn days with mirth
Woman of the Savannah, woman of the Sahara
Daughter of a warrior,
Daughter of a hunter
So helpless I bow, to your brown beauty
Woman of rare power, woman of the sun-side
With beauteous beads round your waggling waist
I long to love,
Only you my Negress
Woman of the hilly lands, woman of the hot lands
The fruit of a sole succulent tree
How ageless, should I wait
To have you between my bold arms
Listen my love; listen to the tones of Tony
Listen woman of the high land
I long to love no other but you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem