Henri Percikow

In your face I see the Maccabees, Spartacus and Africa

The people of today and the people of tomorrow.

I see the tears of all Ages

I read the lifelines of Mankind

In your voice, I hear the shrieking of the whipped 

I hear the lamentations of your forefathers­ 

I hear the cry of all oppressed peoples.

In your voice, I hear the marching of the Viet Minh, 

The Huks-

Beaten on drums in the African jungle, 

Beaten on bamboo sticks in the Philippines, 

Beaten on steel bars in the Franco dungeons­ 

And today I hear the Negro chant

Of the Freedom marchers-

Sung from the lips of the Brazilian peon, 

Sung from the tongue of the Chilean miner, 

Sung from coast to coast in my America.

In your golden voice, I hear the gentle breeze and the raging storm 

I hear the song of the Earth.

In your eyes, I can see the New World 

Where man lives, works and rejoices,

All this I have seen and more....

Proud Negro, son of a slave, molded and steeled

With the soul of Nat Turner, Ben Davis and John Brown.

Captive between the borders of your homeland 

You roam free in our hearts

Eagles will carry your song from peak to peak­ 

The earth will exult and the stars will sing.