My skin does not shame me,

This skin is my winter summer blanket,

Nkhuparele wena lesela lame,

O nkatle thlogo, sefathlego, mabogo, mmele le maoto,

Wa a relela,

Wa phatsima,

O mebala-bala,

Tota mmala wa gago o a makatsa,

Kobo ntshwana,

Kobo tshweu,

Ga o lwese ope,

Fela o tsositse dintwa,

Rau-rau dikgutlong tse nne tsa lefatshe,

My skin, my cloth, my blanket is the beauty i carry with me,

My skin, my cloth, my blanket is a celebration of my ancestry,

My skin, my cloth, my blanket is Africa personified,

For my skin knows no colour.

Ichu nna we, ba ntlhabile ka lemao,

Ichu nna we, ba mphisitse ka mollo,

Ichu nna we, ba nthuntse ka thloboro,

Ichu nna we, ba nkapile ka peke,

Ichu nna we, ba ntsidifaditse ka semathane,

Ichu nna we, ba ngapile ka dinala,

Ichu nna we ba nkitikile ka difeisi,

They have pierced you with bullets and yet you heal,

They have maimed you with kicks and fists and yet you heal,

They have submerged you under icy waters of the seas and yet you heal,

They have gorged you with knifes and sticks and yet you heal,

They have seared you with blazed red coal from a furnace and yet you heal,

They have tormented you with electrical voltages in torture chambers and yet you heal.

North, East, South, West corners of the globe we are all embalmed by this sheath of magnificent hue’s shaded in black or white.

Yes this summer winter blanket has stirred wars over the green, the brown and the gold many a sunset in battlefields but the skin,

My skin knows no colour

My skin, my cloth, my blanket is the beauty i carry with me,

My skin, my cloth, my blanket is a celebration of my ancestry,

My skin, my cloth, my blanket is Africa personified.

© Lesego Motsepe 2001.