From the aching gullet of Africa
The wind protests
In clear accents
Against the footprints of inhumanity in Africa
It protests for beyond Africa lies the trade
Beyond her grips was it made
By men whose souls
Thirst to recreate the olden years
Ay! Who shall tell them
That Africans are Beings
Who shall relay that to them
Amidst the harvest of organs
The tears of Africa resonates in Libya
At the sight of the maiming
Over and over again it fights to clear
Herself from the stain walking
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem