We are swollen rivers, Tata,
running through your countryside.
We are saltwater rivers
sprung from bloodshot eyes.
We are rivers pulsing
with Xhosa blood,
and banks washed clean
with your love.
Beloved Madiba
We hear your voice in the waters;
still taste your strength and your backbone
In the back of our parched throats.
You lead, honored Tata
from places high,
or from the enemy's fortress
You lead our currents to peace.
And we are a river, dear Madiba,
running through your countryside.
Xhosa blood will surge
long after you have gone home.
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