The night has been long,
Crowded with chirp of gossiping birds,
And frogs singing the scorching song,
But no ear cares for our moaning gong,
The crickets whisper to us be strong
And all signs say to us eye the weather
The clock shall show you the astronomers,
Who shall swap these sadistic stars,
Who left our trust unfading scars,
Lighting only their own cosmic sphere,
Leaving us all in dense darkness.
The astronomers, when we come to find
Them, whose tickers are gutsy and kind,
Our hope long buried under the rock,
Shall be exhumed to have its stock.
The faith of the living dead shall see light
And we shall no more memory this night
The green shall feed our murmuring belly,
The white shall reign us in love and tranquility,
And we shall sing the land is green indeed.
But that's when we metamorphose our mind
To collectively have it all as one bind
Weaning our eyes from raking our differences,
In tongues, religion and casual beliefs,
Weaning our hands from reaching out for bombs,
And guns that sent scapegoats to stolen tombs
That's when every alarm can stop menacing
Our freedom and very existence
Then our serving youth shall no more
Scare to match on the mountain top
That's when we are all baptized in one River
Where we call our mother Niger'
At last we would come to realize
The home truth before our naked eyes
That we were the ruthless stars
But now we are the astronomers,
The men we were looking for everywhere,
We are the men.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
im the real phil Collins btw