Europe, your foundations
Are laid on a rough stones
Your heart is like cobwebs
That are dry in the desert.

Your children fill us with fear:
They are like young of a puff adder
Who devour the flesh of their parent.

Once I believed the tales
Once I believed you had breasts
Overflowing with milk

I saw you rushing with book
From which the oracles derive their prophesies.
I heard you in the forest
Crying like wolves
Breaking the bones of your clans

I know the hardness of your visions:
You closed the doors
And chose the bridegroom of steel.

You chose her not to love
But because she alone remained
Dedicated to silence.

From her you made your prophesies
And summoned the oracles:
You laughed at the blind men,
Struggling in this great night.

Children have inherited the fire.
They blow its flames to the skies
Burning others in their sleep.

What will the sun say?
The sun will laugh
Because it burnt our cradles from age to age

© Mazisi Kunene