One day the bullets of war made a sad song
And so I became displaced against my will
I ran into Exile where thousands came along
Memories of a sad war that nothing can fill
Yes I have been in exile just for too long
But my exhausted soul is not at all alone
And for me exile represents a very sad song
For which I may never ever master any tone
Oh Cape montserrado where really are thou?
Thy beautiful coast is my only true home
It was here all my ancestors began to avow
The very freedom to which I want to come.
Beautiful Mama Liberia, are you over there?
The grey hue of the fog obscures the light
And the only peace I seek is no more here
I need a home, for in me is no more fight.
Oh hear me out thou sweet land of liberty
I need me a home to rest my bruised bones
Somewhere I can rest and regain my sanity
For years I sang this song in exiled tones.
Finally I can see all her beautiful shores
The lighthouse beckons from Snapper Hill
I was home, see Monrovia's morning glores
Ducor give me thy breasts to feed and chill
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The gray hue of the fog.... a big 10++++++++
Thanks once again..kindly read ''Everlasting word.
Thanks Bernard, may God bless you for your kind words.