April dawn |
| The years that passed in anonymity |
| Abandoned to our silent misery |
| The cold stone of the tavern floor |
| The black shawls that our women wore |
| For blood shed in a pointless war |
| |
| The tortured lives enclosed by high white walls |
| The hopeless waiting in the endless halls |
| The hand of judgement always near |
| The furtive glances born of fear |
| The quick words whispered in a mear |
| |
| And while the seasons passed, the furtile fields lay fallow |
| A sad neglected legacy |
| The time had come to plant the seeds for our tomorrow |
| To sow a future strong and free |
| |
| For half a century we lived and slaved |
| Deprived of that for which our spirits craved |
| The right to be what we could be |
| To live and work in dignity |
| To find a song to set us free |
| |
| To bring us home from distant fields of unsought combat |
| Our flesh and spirit scarred and torn |
| In wanton suffering we bowed ourselves in closeness |
| In servitude our strength was born |
| |
| At last the might of cruel brivation, pain and sorrow |
| The fear and shame we knew were gone |
| And with a song of love and joy and jubilation |
| We rose to greet the April dawn |
| The long-awaited April dawn |
![[]](/pandora/1975/pt1.jpg)
