HYMNS OF FREEDOM
It is a a new day, what we live today
Free of servitude
Murana! not more a slave, bonds - girl
Murana ! not more a trokosi
Shout, shout the word loud for us to hear
Murana, break the silence your voice wishes to betray
and lightened the path the Olympian torches fears
This is the way you shall be known, Murana !
To be the fearless
To be the freed
Of your grandmother Miedoafe's replica
Because
When you dare not, the world behinds the shade, dreads.....
Which
What
Is laid deep in the smoldering of the quenched fires
Where its smokes revives the echoes of yesterday
Of you, the heart felts when been abused
From the sufferings of fathers sins
Who never educate us
Who never make a wealth
Who never rules well
Who never..................
So today, stand firm against it
Break the chain that linked us
For freedom from imprisoned egos
Ignorance, Corruption, and bad governance
All
Been a freed Trokosi.
I have heard stories,
passed down through the years,
of the depression,
the hardships, and fears.
My grandmother lived it,
and she never forgot,
those days of hunger,
and the pitiful sights.
She told of the rations,
and how they had to last,
with her five little children,
things went mighty fast.
Winters were cold,
the clothes froze on the line,
no dryers back then,
for drying them in.
Coal for the heater,
in a bucket nearby,
and way before daylight,
she would start feeding the fire.
I really can't imagine,
how hard things were,
but I may get the chance real soon,
it is looking more like a depression, for sure.