I hear the songs sung
I hear the drums, the whistles of birds
I see goddesses
Gradually soothed with ochre
Their song indulges the sky, the sea, the land

Their beauty
Lingers in the dreadful drowning dusk
To them, the light has been revealed
Sweet and high

Their colourful robes flow passionately
Sweeping away mystification
Superstitiously, poignantly seeking to wallop what is in the heart
Love. Kindness. Courage. Humanity.
You name it

They move and move
African women strike, they move
To the last beat of the drum
Instead of being a lake, they choose to be a river
Making endless manoeuvres
They vivaciously wash away the tears, dysphonia of the nation

As they continuously chirp
I listen
I heed the African women sing
Ndiyasiva isingqi somfazi we Africa!