Spell of my pigment
The land we belong, virtues of land remain sacred.
The goodness of humanity and the practice of Ubuntu
Is what makes us African.
The leading culture and the traditional radder is what maketh the uniqueness of our colour.
The fountain of my being soaked my face and locked me in a vault of who I am.
The stream of Africa built on a principle of civilization still buffle the Modern world.
The spell of my pigment,
A linen of my pigment,
Black cotton is thy self,
The magnificent black colour
Entwined on our clothes.
Marked and enwrought our soothing music.
You are deeper than anything
And colourful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem