A silhouette of pulchritude finestFairest of your kind.
You’re an apparition from swart clay kneaded;
From head to toe, you’re perfectly imperfect,
Why do you envy the sun?
Your head is enveloped in hair tawny,
The cupid that awakens lust
In men and eyes of gods.
Africa my mother!
Thou art rich;
Nights in their fullness from you
Borrow their skin.
A ripe-lemon’s colour!
Bury not your natural nature
In creams and colourants.
Find comfort even in your scars
Each is a memory
Written therein your skin’s diary.