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

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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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