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David Diop.  (1927-1960



David Diop

Africa my Africa

Africa of pround warriors in ancestral savannahs

Africa of whom my grandmlother sings

On the banks of the distant river

I have never known you

But your blood flows in my viens

 Your beautiful black blood that irrigates the fields

The blood of your sweat

The sweat of your work

The work of your slavery

Africa, tell me Africa

Is this your back that is bent

This back that makes under the weight of humilation

This back trembling with red scars

And saying yes to the whip under the midday sun

But a grave voice answer me

Impetuous child that tree young and strong

That tree over there

Splendidly alone  amidst white and faded flowers

That is your Africa springing up anew

springing up patiently obstinately

Whose fruit bit by bit acquire

The bitter taste of liberty.


US - Africa Literary Foundation

Chimdi Maduagwu, PhD
Executive Director
US-Africa Writers Foundation
Dr. Bode Osanyin
Chairman, Department of Creative Arts
University of Lagos
Department of Creative Arts
Akoka, Yaba
Lagos, Nigeria

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