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I can still sing Songs have not died in me, I can still sing For you oh land of my ecstasy

and my sorrows For the million souls who hew the stones and build Who still inspire my art And who know that I am Part of them and they of me Songs have not died in me And there is a word in your heart That was not uttered by my mouth And there is a cloud over your face That was not scattered by my hands You offer the sun from my blood Morning and evening To light the footsteps of mankind Through my guide

Am a million sacrificial lambs Falling under your majestic feet Put me forward in your fight That I become a drop of blood Or a groan snatched from a mouth Or the smile of an enduring soul under the scourge of the lash When you walk dignified In your wounds And your fights Oh bearer of fire to the sublime heights

The era of rebirth I gaze upon your face, Poetry my only weapon My brow naked and high, like the dawn and covered by my wounds I defy your enemies, foes of my fight Who ravished your honor many times They carried away your shame, a flower Their feet encroached upon your sanctuaries They danced upon your bones They mutilated your glorious history, the solemn, the magnificent They drowned it all in blood They stole the best that is in your heart, oh motherland They stole your crown and oppressed you They stole your sword and then raped you They stole your glory and despised you But they did not take your life

You were the millions that will never die The millions from whose wombs is born Today and Tomorrow The millions whose mighty force cannot be curbed The millions who are reborn in everyday from million wombs

Lumumba, the Sun and the Assassination In my heart there is a sword trickling blood Sweating in hatred and in spite Quivering with rage oh Lumumba Buried golden sword of my motherland Unsheathed and raised upon executioners necks I will never pull you out from my bosom Remain where you are Remain where you are You will never rust in the soil of my soul Therefore blaze away into the fire of my wounds Dye the revolutionary banners red, oh sword of my motherland And spread out the freedom flags over my land Be a sun, for that other sun is dead It no more glows in the eyes of the oppressed We have kindled it before with our tears And we have raised over history with our hands And we have washed its brow with the blood of our sorrows Then it was smothered oh Lumumba When it had become another sun That burns the hands of the oppressed Oh Lumumba You dwell in my heart The black hero with naked feet Running upon the Congo River The forest trees following your steps The breath of darkness trembles at their sound The fast waves of the Congo Run fast in their chaste You were the fearful knight With the golden voice Your eyes fixed high upon the stars The mouth encompass the words The voices of the oppressed Reverberate in the soul of the earth Oh Lumumba The traitors shall never succeed He will not be a hero He who betrays his peoples cause

He who let fall his flag the day of war He who closes the door of freedom upon himself He who kisses the feet of the murderers Never Never oh Lumumber Mobutu will never be a hero Even if your hands are put in chains Even if the revolution is crucified upon your lips Even if they cast you in jail

Even if you are stabbed The rancor will remain buried Staring from the eyes of your people In your eyes In scorn at the eyes of the assassin

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