The hungry glance, the muted word
the saddened eyes, the hidden sword
the pain-rent heart, the patient wait
the inward burst of anguished night.
These are the seeds of every strong
and restless move to strike the gong
and cry for war - behold we come
to equalize and solve the sum
to burn the throne and down the drone
that steals the peoples’ power.
Chave, chave, chave chimurenga!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem