Land of the black man! cradle of poor Arsène,
Is your memory coming in search of my heart?
Wind from Guinea, is it your sweet breath 
That caresses me and beguiles my pain?
Are you bringing me my mother's sighs,
Or the song that comforts my father?
  Dance and play, pretty white children;
  If you wish to be good, do not grow up!

Negro captive, lying on the shore,
I see you laugh when you dream of death;
Your soul set free will travel on a cloud,
To where your birth had settled your fate.
God will give you your mother's kisses,
And the song you learned from your father!
  Dance and play, pretty white children;
  If you wish to be good, do not grow up!

Poor and contented, the peaceful black man
Has never crossed the waves to trouble you;
And among you, under a strict master,
No man is ever heard sobbing.
To steal you away from a mother's kisses,
What have we done to the god of your father?
  Dance and play, pretty white children;
  If you wish to be good, do not grow up!