But the wind of calmness will blow,
In your land there will be echoes of peace,
And your river of peace again with might will flow.
The giant white cock will crow,
And these songs of war forever will cease,
Then your beautiful black skin like diamond will glow.
Your corns in the fields will grow,
And your mountains you will no longer lease,
For the hands of your sons will be strong on the plough.
Oh beautiful Queen how did you get this low
To become an object of ridicule to your niece?
You whose apparel was a stainless garment of snow.
Let somebody tell me if they know,
How Africa became this abject and restless piece,
And her own living became to her a great painful woe.
The bodies of her daughters to the dogs they throw,
And upon her face the scare of dagger like a crease.
But the wind of calmness will blow,
And your river of peace again with calmness will flow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem