There is a land where the grass rolls forever in luminescent green
	And each river unfolds in curving currents like a diamond stream.
	A land spoken of by my forefathers with awed expectant eyes,
	 promised nation often chanted in ancient tongue before a warrior dies.
	There is a land where rainbows stream across emerald blue skies.
	As I dream of going there,  my soul yearns for this verdant nirvana
	And wonder where it lies,  where it lies.
	A land pressed by the feet of a billion African brothers
	Until their dark toes intermeshed like crushed vineyard grapes,
	Creating a swirl of strength and power in black contour shapes. 
	The wind gods have sown their charcoal seeds across the gold and silver mountains
	And cast them gently into the promised soil
	Where these blown seeds will burgeon like embryonic cones,
	Or like plump gourds shaken in ritual with old tattooed bones. 
	They must give volcanic birth to greater tribes whose tempers and toil
	Will cause the continents to tremble and the oceans to boil. 

	There is a promised nation of abundant hills and grain
	Where tiger and dove share communion on every plum-filled plain.
	A land where flowers bloom forever and the pines are a colossus throng,
	Where cicadas fiddle eternal harmony with impassioned song.
	A promised nation of my sable-skinned heritage and lineage,
	A shining home I journey towards in a lonesome pilgrimage
	 As a misplaced moth using instinct and pride,
	While on my wings are hieroglyphics serving as a mystic guide. 
	There is a promised nation where the gazelle is free to leap and raise its horn,
	A place from which the leopard hunters and sooty craftsmen will never again be torn, 
	A haven my heart shall seek to find even though I be withered and forlorn.
	There is a promised nation overflowing with ripen fruit and corn,
	A land of  my rightful inheritance that must be the oasis and chrysalis in which I am reborn.