ISLAND
Mother, in your perennial sleep,
You live naked and forgotten
and barren,
thrashed by the winds,
at the sound of songs without music
sung by the waters that confine us...
Island:
Your hills and valleys
haven’t felt the passage of time.
They remain in your dreams
- your children’s dreams –
crying out your woes
to the passing winds
and to the carefree birds flying by.
Island :
Red earth shaped like a hill that never ends
- rocky earth –
ragged cliffs blocking all horizons
while tying all our troubles to the winds!
Mother, in your perennial sleep,
You live naked and forgotten
and barren,
thrashed by the winds,
at the sound of songs without music
sung by the waters that confine us...
Island:
Your hills and valleys
haven’t felt the passage of time.
They remain in your dreams
- your children’s dreams –
crying out your woes
to the passing winds
and to the carefree birds flying by.
Island :
Red earth shaped like a hill that never ends
- rocky earth –
ragged cliffs blocking all horizons
while tying all our troubles to the winds!
~AmÃlcar Cabral, Praia, Cabo Verde, 1945
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