It could be the sun scotches the system black
For black is the colour of vice, ‘ n all ills
Black Africa is black of its people and their vices
While virtues are white, for white is innocence!
Come hither you doctors and surgeons
Hypnotise me and carry out incisions, scans and X-rays
Discover me out from the hidden secrets of solar rays
For this vice is rampant in Africa under the sun.
I was born black in Africa of a corrupt delivery system
Ostracise me from a system chocked by the sun to Iceland
Hypnotise me and carry out incisions, scans and X-rays
And see if without the sun I can be a virtuous black man.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem