Halahoyi, Africans, something stinks

like the ground snake, fouling the air;

it's quite at home in orchards,

lovely at rest on the plains.

I want you to know so look, compatriot:

there you can see calamity.

Take this key and open this chapter:

in truth it will make your head spin.

You were locked in shackles, Africa,

because you had lost your way.

The late riser misses everything:

we weren't aware of our fathers groaning.

Our herds and our people engulfed in flame,

even God's word was up in arms.

“Our fathers no longer sleep at home:

the whites have erected forts of stone.”

Celebration began before fighting ceased

but there's bullying right in the churches.

The old voice said, “You're dying, Africa.”

The gainsayers countered: “How can she die?”

Deuteronomy's quite explicit:

It says, “Come back! You face destruction.”

Hey you! You're called for all eternity.

Whoa! Wait up! The warnings are manifold.

Today our voice is drowned in a whirlwind,

we're left in the dust by learning.

It seemed it would ease our burdens,

instead it brought heavier burdens.

Let's assume our fathers’ coats

in whatever land they were left:

we've crossed many lands in search of them

in times of famine and times of war.

Hear my words, Greybeard of ours,

those are the headings in our discussion.

And there's the key to the lock on our land, 35

we've searched many lands to get it.

And the rich, and expert students,

do me a favour and try this key.

There's no need to cross the oceans:

it's right here, not overseas.

It says you can't use it to get into heaven,

it's right here: you also have merit.

On that day the prophets will sift you,

for every nation has prophets.

We say “Please come back, though you lack faith,

those glittering baubles are not for you.”

Return to the days you yearn for,

recall what Ntsikana said of them.

Dawn's breaking!!