Black Woman Naked woman, black womenCloth with your colour which is life, with your form which is beauty !In your shadow I have grown up; the gentleness of your hands was laid over my eyes.And now, high up on the sun-backed pass,at the heart of summer, at the heart of noon, I come upon you, my Promised Land,And your beauty strikes me to the heart like the flash of an eagle.Naked women, dark womenFirm-fleshed ripe fruit, sombre raptures of black wine, mouth making lyrical my mouthSavannah stretching to clear horizens, savannah shuddering beneath the EastWind’s eager caressesCarved tom-tom, taut tom-tom, muttering under the Conqueror’s fingersYour solemn contalto voice is the spiritual song of the Beloved.Naked woman, dark womanOil that no breath ruffles, calm oil on the athlete’s flanks,on the flanks of the Prices of MaliGazelle limbed in Paradise, petals are stars on the night of your skinDelights of the mind, the glinting of red gold against your water skinUnder the shadow of your hair, my care is lightened by neighbouring sunsof your eyes.Naked woman, black women,I sing your beauty that passes, the form that I fix in the Eternal,Before jealous Fate turn you to ashes to feed the roots of life. L. S. SENGHOR
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Naked woman, black women
Cloth with your colour which is life, with your form which is beauty !
In your shadow I have grown up; 
the gentleness of your hands was laid over my eyes.
And now, high up on the sun-backed pass,
at the heart of summer, at the heart of noon, 
I come upon you, my Promised Land,
And your beauty strikes me to the heart 
like the flash of an eagle.

Naked women, dark women
Firm-fleshed ripe fruit, sombre raptures of black wine, 
mouth making lyrical my mouth
Savannah stretching to clear horizens, 
savannah shuddering beneath the East
Wind’s eager caresses
Carved tom-tom, taut tom-tom, muttering under the Conqueror’s fingers
Your solemn contalto voice is the spiritual song of the Beloved.

Naked woman, dark woman
Oil that no breath ruffles, calm oil on the athlete’s flanks,
on the flanks of the Prices of Mali
Gazelle limbed in Paradise, petals are stars on the night of your skin
Delights of the mind, the glinting of red gold against your water skin
Under the shadow of your hair, my care is lightened by neighbouring suns
of your eyes.

Naked woman, black women,
I sing your beauty that passes, the form that I fix in the Eternal,
Before jealous Fate turn you to ashes to feed the roots of life.

L. S. SENGHOR