[Intro – whispered, no percussion] Jërëjëf... Teranga... Dakar, can you hear me? [Verse 1 – deep female vocal, intimate] The sun goes down on a dusty street, A little boy plays with tired feet, One old ball and a wall of scars, Dreams flying low under fading stars. His mother watches from the door, She has seen this road before, From broken shoes to foreign lights, From Dakar nights to American skies. [Pre-Chorus – soft sabar begins] She says, Mon fils, garde ton cœur, Don’t trade your name for gold, The world is wide and loud, my child, But home is what you hold. [Chorus – mournful, prayer-like] The ball rolls far, But it still knows home, Across the sea, Where the warm winds roam. From USA to Dakar, From the lights to the sand, May the lion in your chest Still remember this land. Teranga, Teranga, Carry him slow, Wherever he runs, Let his roots still grow. [Instrumental Break – metal guitar explodes, gentle kora, soft tama] [Verse 2 – intimate, almost spoken at first] No stadium roar, no golden crown, Just evening smoke over this town, A kettle sings, the neighbors pray, And children chase the end of day. He wears a shirt with fading green, Yellow sun and red unseen, Not for glory, not for fame, But because the blood remembers names. [Pre-Chorus – slightly more emotional] She says, Nanga def, sama doom? Are you still the boy I knew? When the cameras call your number, Will your shadow follow you? [Chorus – deeper, restrained] The ball rolls far, But it still knows home, Across the sea, Where the warm winds roam. From USA to Dakar, From the noise to the sand, May the lion in your chest Still remember this land. Teranga, Teranga, Carry him slow, Wherever he runs, Let his roots still grow. [Bridge – French and Wolof, prayer-like] Doxal ndànk, doxal ndànk, Walk slowly, my son. Le sable connaît nos pas, The sand knows where we come from. Gaïndé sleeps inside your breath, Not every lion has to roar. Some carry silence in their chest, And still become much more. [Instrumental Break – acoustic guitar, kora response, sparse sabar] [Final Chorus – very soft, almost a lullaby] The ball rolls far, But it still knows home, Even in the cold, Even all alone. From USA to Dakar, From tomorrow to the past, May the hands that raised you up Be the hands that hold you fast. Teranga, Teranga, Carry him slow, Wherever he runs, Let his roots still grow. [Outro – whispered, no percussion] Jërëjëf... Sama doom... Dakar will know your name.
