Africa Kills Her Son I am alive, Africa! I speak with a poet’s pen then write with a weapon that cleanses the hearts of despots…. Ah, Africa! My Africa! Greeting heroes and welcoming them to her bosom. Beating drums reverberating…
Africa Kills Her Son I am alive, Africa! I speak with a poet’s pen then write with a weapon that cleanses the hearts of despots…. Ah, Africa! My Africa! Greeting heroes and welcoming them to her bosom. Beating drums reverberating…