Yet We Will Dance Again Poem by ENOCH AANU OJOTISA

When the chants of sorrow,
Gaol our rights like no morrow;
In our heritage we lament.
But there will be atonement.
For our oppression is not originated from our sins;
Rather, it has been destined since.

Tears flowing like river through red eyes
Washing down the lake of our face;
Oppression like ABIKU, says our divination lies.
We mourn our dance in our own place.

Yet we must not let our dance die.
Our dance is our culture ____to the foreigner we say bye.
Who can say that only time?
The time we will cease to dance to the foreigner's mime.
Brothers! Our time to dance is come.
The dance of our heritage; can't be lost in calculating its rhyme's sum.

I shall stand not in his regalia.
My rib shall no longer be called like Priscilla;
She shall bear like a new African maiden.
We shall dance in our Africa's night of white-red scarf test of pure maiden.