Africa Land of the Morning

Africa my Africa Land of the Morning,

Africa of proud warriors in ancestral savannahs Child of the sun returning,

Africa of whom my grandmother sings With fervor burning,

On the banks of the distant river Thee do our souls adore.

I have never known you

But your blood flows in my veins Land dear and holy,

Your beautiful black blood that irrigates the Cradle of noble heroes,
fields
Neer shall invaders
The blood of your sweat
Trample thy sacred shore.
The sweat of your work

The work of your slavery

Ever within thy skies and through thy clouds
Africa, tell me Africa
And oer thy hills and sea
Is this your back that is unbent
Do we behold the radiance, feel the throb,
This back that never breaks under the weight of
Of glorious liberty.
humilation

This back trembling with red scars

And saying no to the whip under the midday
sun
But a grave voice answers me
Impetuous child that tree, young and strong
That tree over there
Thy banner, dear to all our hearts,
Its sun and stars alight,
O, never shall its shining field
Be dimmed by tyrants might!

Splendidly alone amidst white and faded Beautiful land of love,

flowers
O land of light,
That is your Africa springing up anew
In thine embrace tis rapture to lie,
springing up patiently, obstinately
But it is glory ever, when thou art wronged,
Whose fruit bit by bit acquires
For us, thy sons, to suffer and die.
The bitter taste of liberty.