“Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted, for they are no more.” (Mat. 2:28b)
Oh Haiti, your tears burn into my heart like fire,
Your mountains stand naked like your children,
Without hands, unable to hide their shame.
Yet, despite orange hair and swollen bellies,
Despite hunger and hardship,
Their beauty cannot be hidden.
Oh mother Haiti, although your tired breasts are dry of milk,
They overflow with endurance and hope.
Your children die of hunger, sweet mother,
Yet you have fed them well,
On a diet of courage and strength.
Oh Haiti, land enslaved by misery,
Land of tears and smiles,
Land of sorrows and eternal hope.
I will not forget you, Haiti,
Beloved Haiti.
