Africa my Africa
Africa of proud warriors
In ancestral Savannah
Africa of whom my grandmother sings,
On the banks of the distant river.
I have never known you
But your blood flows in my vein
Your beautiful black blood
That irrigates the fields
The blood of your sweat
The work of your slavery
The slavery of your children
Africa, tell me, Africa
Is this you, This back that is bent
This back that breaks
Under the weight of humiliation
This back trembling with red scars
Saying "yes" to the whip under the midday sun?
A grave voice answers me:
Impetuous son, this tree, young and strong,
This tree there in splendid isolation
Amidst white and faded flowers,
That is Africa, your Africa,
That grows again, patiently, obstinately
As its fruit gradually acquires
The bitter taste of liberty.
Africa of proud warriors
In ancestral Savannah
Africa of whom my grandmother sings,
On the banks of the distant river.
I have never known you
But your blood flows in my vein
Your beautiful black blood
That irrigates the fields
The blood of your sweat
The work of your slavery
The slavery of your children
Africa, tell me, Africa
Is this you, This back that is bent
This back that breaks
Under the weight of humiliation
This back trembling with red scars
Saying "yes" to the whip under the midday sun?
A grave voice answers me:
Impetuous son, this tree, young and strong,
This tree there in splendid isolation
Amidst white and faded flowers,
That is Africa, your Africa,
That grows again, patiently, obstinately
As its fruit gradually acquires
The bitter taste of liberty.
garastāvoklis: |
jestrs |
klausos: |
Landser - Africa Lied |