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I love my orange colored Island I love the people of my Land As unreasonable as unreason, As crazy as madness As stubborn as the Sun. Our Sun… Who fills us with so much energy He roams beyond the tangible And clings to the unreal to survive. I admire the men of my sacked race Always in search of the Sun Randomly in tortuous roads Which do not always lead to the Light. Yet… This Sun… He is in all of us “Quisqueyans” Heirs of this sacred Land whose Western part celebrates at this time its 200th year of Independence Which have sacred her, in spite of the greatest nations, “The First Black Republic of the World” Even if our song is not comparable to our feathers… Whether you believe it or not, it is so! Time will tell the rest; let us just wait… For when Nature calls Man has only one choice: to surrender.
Yole L. Dérose
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