Pilgrims shall the road end here
When the sun that rose has yet to set
Shall our rivers run dry this season
And its waters be for mourners' washing
Whence you came pilgrims the feet that trod
This earth marked the red dust for harvest
For she that walks at night might stumble
But if she falls on shadows may she not wilt
How long the journey how dark this night
But oh how strong how deep these roots
That held you up to skies for nascence rites
That still your march in the tempest of time
You heard the tales of ancient days
From mothers who told of your fate
Sealed in the hiding of tomorrows' veils
They who decreed feasts for days to come
Rise then pilgrims rise and keep this song
Seed of this land that dies and lives anew
Rise in vigor and let not the road ever end
Let rivers run and this earth not weep again
Mvúra Mirávyo (21st century} Burundi
Source: Poetic Africa, Issue 2
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