Still I rise

Impossível ver as fotos das crianças haitianas e não lembrar de versos do belíssimo poema de Maya Angelou…

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

[…]

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

[…]

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

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