In the heart of Africa's embrace,

Where sunlight dances with grace,

Amidst the savannah's ancient sweep,

A whispered plea, a prayer we keep.



Let the poor breathe, let them rise,

Beneath the vast and endless skies.

Their dreams like rivers, ever flowing,

In the warmth of love, bestowing.



From crimson dawn to twilight's gleam,

In shadows cast, a silent scream,

The humble souls, they strive to cope,

With burdened hearts and dreams of hope.



Let the poor breathe, let them soar,

On wings of dreams, forevermore.

Their spirits strong, though shackles bind,

A spirit fierce, they yearn to find.



Beneath the baobab's ancient shade,

Where tales of old are gently laid,

The wisdom of the elders’ lore,

A beacon bright, forevermore.

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