— POEM 𝒃𝒚 Baboucarr E.A. Busso
In their dreams, they hear echoes,
The call is from the ancestors;
They have found out,
That the land they tilled well is now well wasted,
In their dreams, they hear echoes,
The call is from the ancestors;
They have found out,
That the land they tilled well is now well wasted,