The Epic Poem of the Darkness (83). Because my petroleum and diamonds were, they don't already here remain, they are a lot besides the sea

The upstarts' agitation in the hunt copper-covered without pause

they don't leave that we rest, of turning over the intact

Nor you remain, you break, nor protests

That we are blessed with notable smell in uproar

Give to the new gentlemen, what belongs to them

The submission of the illiterate ones is belongs of the slaves

I dance and I don't find the centre of my Universe

Millenniums are passed in my face

Of twitching, of screeching of teeth

of snarling eternal

I usually have the pretension of saying everything

To the imposed silence of everyday

That they are born and they hide my mask

chosen of my heart without delight

Quickly to see it destroyed

my country, Angola

The highways and the convoys are our distraction. They feed a lot of loads and few discharges. Metal groups that circulate loaded to the sea. Petroleum, copper, zinc, gold, uranium, diamonds… many rare metals. Then they export us, they prepare us. They allow observing us those goods - to photograph them no because the Marxist-Leninist god is always present - that impede our sustenance. He deposed the Marxist-Leninist ones abandon us offer us the abundance of the black hunger. Angola, Ethiopia, Liberia, Sudan, and many more…

The economic displeasure, the corruption, the outrage

I lost the countless times in that I was freed

for soldier-dictators

Where I will go, I don't know, they stole me the

cottage

and the orchids of the gardens

Without perfume, with sourness, where I will go

I don't know

Remember me, I walk thereabout to the search

Of some honest ruler. Say that it never again ends

my torment

I scream in the deepest forest virgin

say, seek our ancestral God

If they find him in the sacred circles

when they dare to go to the deep of the sacred forest

Remember me, don't fear, there I will be

They swallow me a ship without slaves

without presents and without eternal presidents

I try to recompose the lost wreckage

of the boats that stagnate in my eyes

Walking, the ocean of my tears

Always in the longest search than I promised

to return and to remind of the twenty of the beach of Jamestown

He begs in the nude street without mirror to aim at me

Tell me struggle again

and to finish off, and to kill

I lost them the will, no longer I love them

I hate them

Because my petroleum and diamonds

they were, they don't already here remain

they are a lot besides the sea

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