That the world,
like the sky and moon wil dwell
and less tears,
waters the seeds of pain.
From the widow in her closet
to the lovers at the beach.
We little ones will grow,
the wish of our fathers
and smile the way our mothers wanted.
Tha we might together,
echo the name of AFRICA
with a sweet voice
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem is fantastic.Afro-pessimists...take note and ashamed! Thank you very much master Babalola.