My High-prowed Sailing-boat

You, who from that first dawn
Have been built out of the trees’ body,
With a cry of joy, ringing the alarm
Of the axe, the panga and sabre,
Their courage being their weapon,
O, daughter of the green Bénara;

You, whom millions of generations
Have witnessed, have known you,
Whether Djumbé Fatima, Queen of Moheli,
Or the Sultan Andriantsouli of Mayotte,
I know you’ve lived through many civilisations;

O my sailer, no matter the weather
If it blows, if it thunders or if it pours,
You’ll return through the long darkness always
With your world shining joyfully at meeting again
After such a long period of absence
From familiar eyes.