Long, long you have held between hands your by Léopold Sédar Senghor

For khalam

Long, long you have held between your hands 

the black face of the warrior

Held as if already there fell on it a twilight of death. 

From the hill I have seen the sun set 

in the bays of your  eyes.

When shall I see again, my country, 

The pure horizon of your face? 

When shall I sit down once more at the dark table of your breast? 

Hidden in the half-darkness, the nest of gentle words.

I shall see other skies and other eyes 

I shall drink at the spring of other mouths cooler than lemons 

I shall sleep under the roof of other heads of hair in shelter from storms.

But every year, when the rum of springtime sets my memory ablaze 

I shall be full of regret for my homeland 

and the rain from your eyes on the thirsty savannahs.

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