Although resources abound,
Both human and material;
Our sleeping children wrestle need,
While Africa lies at our feet.
Confused, I turned to the God in me,
And ask, 'How can this stand? '
Our people's dreams seem to be cursed!
Nothing to give while others starve,
Have we offended God somehow?
His richest blessings turned to dust.
I did not have to wait that long,
For written there, high in the sky,
His finger wrote on heaven's door...
'Today, this hour, your time has come,
Let every man rise from the ground,
Those rising first give brothers aid,
Inaction never nurtures dreams.
Let human toil serve future crops,
And Africa be born again.
And humankind triumphant.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem