This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

I hear the cry of Africa,

See her saddened plight —

Lackluster eyes, no hope or dreams,

Watch day and night.

Listless resignation,

Men gaze o’er vast parched plains,

Useless to plant in dried-out earth,

Waiting for blessed rains.

People far past anguish,

No more tears to shed,

No food, no clothes,

Hard earth for a bed.

Hunger pains diminished,

No longer feeling pain,

Too little food, too late,

And no one to blame.

I hear the cries of Africa,

Mourning on the winds,

In wake of death,

Starving hands reach quietly for their friends.

Haunting face of children

As hunger stalks this land.

No quarter given, and death lurks

For both beast and man.

Women stand bewildered,

Eying their helpless brood,

Wasting away, to laugh no more

For simple lack of food.

I hear the cry of Africa,

Wafting o’er the dry blasted sand,

People of proud heritage,

But what future in this drought-stricken land?