As the white man plays
The black man begs
For a few spare coins
At the water's edge
The Nubian once so tall and proud
Will sell his soul to any crowd
'Buy my trinkets. cigarettes.
Or take a plastic minaret.'
And as the poor take water from the Nile
The tourists shout, 'Come on and smile.
(I want) a photographic memory
Of all the riches that I see.'
Speak of your kings and queens and foes
But tell me where the money goes
Does legend give you bread to eat
Clothes on your back, shoes on your feet
If I see your President
I'll ask him where your riches went
Does he rule wisely for you all
Or does he even rule at all
Brothers, sisters raise your voice
As one you all do have a choice
Yalla, Yalla take a stand
Come on reclaim your promised land
(c) David Stansfield 2008
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very dramatic piece of poetry, and it stands out beautifully with its lovely imagery. Super write. Love Ernestine XXX