Aid/Èd | Stories from Haiti/Istwa ki sot Ayiti
Ala yon ti peyi se Ayiti
Lontan yo te rele l pèldezanti
Kounye a, telman l’ soufri
Li pa menm ka tounen yon pakoti
Gen swadizan peyi ki di yo vin ede l’
Epoutan se peye yo vin peye l’
Yo antre nan tout kwen nan jaden
Pou yo vole ti richès nou genyen
Pote ale tout sa nou posede
Nou la ap founi je gade
Epi fyetèl ap degrade
Fòn di ase, ase
Nou paka rete bra kwaze
Poun kite Ayiti fin kraze
Fòk nou tout leve kanpe
Poun di wi, sèt ase
Fòk Ayiti tounen yon paradi
Pou timoun kap grandi jwi.
— CICERON Wesline
Oh, Haiti, such a small country.
Long ago called the Pearl of the Antilles.
Now, see how it suffers:
It can’t even be called junk.
All these countries supposedly came to help,
But all they are doing is making money.
They come into a corner of our garden,
To steal our wealth,
To carry away everything we own
Ourselves, we’ll keep watching,
While our pride degrades.
We have to say “Enough, enough!”
We cannot stay with our arms crossed in indifference,
Letting Haiti be destroyed.
We must all stand up
We may say yes, it has been enough!
Haiti must become a paradise
For children to grow up in joy.
— Wesline CICERON
Tags: Aid/Èd, Foreigners/Etranje yo, Poetry/Pwezi
Categories : Wesline CICERON