Africa, mother of rich soil,  
Why do you raise a spear against your child,  
When your rivers sing of freedom,  
Yet your laws bind love in iron chains?

The baobab tree stands tall,  
But you hack its branches one by one,  
Afraid of the fruits that grow unbidden,  
While love, like wildflowers, takes root where it wills.

Do not fear the storm,  
For it only brings the rains that nourish your earth.  
Let your heart be the soil,  
Where every love can blossom and grow.