The Weeping Of The Enslaved

My mother

They stole, enslaving her

And they imprisoned me in iron

Bars and shackles

Forbidding me 

To call out and seek out

My brothers, they made into slaves, casting me like chattel into the dark dungeon.

My tongue was plucked out

Excised, so that I would speak

Never again, and would sing no more songs

Full of bitterness and sorrow

And they took away my air, so that

I would not breathe

And my close ones and friends

They killed, like beasts in torment. 

They forbade me

To take joy in life, and to smile

And they dug me my grave before my death

To enter into it myself

Ah, destiny 

I have always been and remained

In my house, anchored

Judged and beaten.

They stole everything of mine

Dear and holy

Fearing neither their own consciences nor God

And they soaked my land in blood

And filled it with the bones of my kin.

They stole away my mother

And shackled her in iron manacles

They darkened my sun

And they forbade the dawn to stop by

In my windows.

My enemies

Have plucked out and snatched

My heart from my chest

Never again to knock and beat

They have thrashed me to my death

And have given me no chance to weep

Not wanting to know how I am.

And they have taken my church

May they be damned

And forbidden me to cry out to God

And pray to Him

They have become my lords, praising themselves, there 

With the riches of my country.

They always forbade me

To say who I am

And what my name is, and because of it I have paid the greatest penalty

And I was, the same as everyone else

Just another child

Of the land, a mother

And I had the right to live

Like every person...

In freedom and justice.