Beautiful Africa

Beautiful Africa, where have you gone?
Oh mother of freedom, no more shall I break.
I long for the loving warmth of a
Yellow, sub-Saharan sky.
The only heat I feel is the fiery hot
Sting of my prison.
Oh subtle shades of Earth,
Reveal to me the secrets of salvation,
Only in my dreams.
My graceful beads of bone, engraved with pride,
Your creases are dark and deep, forged by heritage.
The traditions of kings.
The New World has etched another story in my face.
Oh charcoal stones dispersed among
The seasoned plains of amber and soft green brush,
Do you lament my absence?
My salty beads of sweat and blood—such quiet drips
Of labor, set wicked fire to my eternal wounds.
My home knows not my current woes.
Oh River run dry. Sustain me no more.
Your waters reflect no delivering spirits here.
Beautiful Africa, where have you gone?