Africans, my people;
I have heard your call,wailing and weeping...

In this country, we cover not the craniums
of our women...

She is an avalanche deluge that emerge
In vexation,eargerness and in keenness...

Shrill, the silent cry of an unborn baby.
She squawks with a squeal cry...

You're a precious mother to many
You're a living mother to all life...

You assured
You woudn't leave...

O' thy beauty my darling dare it be duty...
for natures never rest for its creatures...

For this course, be my lust; but I’d known no...
For its cost odd, does the wariness damage...

You could have seen her, in light skin and lean...
When she smiles, she would serene the storm...

You took it
I let it...

He barely moved in balky visage
As the wintry day dismissed our dialogue...

O'
Dear...