by Aimé Césaire
As soon as I press the little pawl that I have under my tongue at a spot that escapes all detection all microscopic bombardment all dowser divination all scholarly prospecting beneath it triple layer of false eyelashes of centuries of insults of strata of madrepores of what I must call my niagara cavern in a burst of cockroaches in a cobra twitch a tongue like a cause for astonishment makes the leap of a machine for spitting a mouthful of curses a rising of the sewers of hell a premonitory ejaculation a urinary spurt a foul emission a sulfuric rhythm feeding an uninterruption of interjections—and then right there pushing between the paving stones the furious blue eucalypti that leave far behind them the splendor of veronicas, skulls smack in the delirium of dust like the jaboticaba plum and then right there started up like the loud buzzing of a hornet the true war of devolution in which all means are justified right there the passenger pigeons of the conflagration right there the crackling of secret transmitters and the thick tufts of black smoke that resemble the vaginal vegetation thrust into the air by rutting loins. I count. Obstructing the street a honey-colored armillaria lying dwarf-like on its side a church uprooted and reduced by catastrophe to its true proportions of a public urinal. I cross over collapsed bridges. I cross under new arches. Toboggan eye at the bottom of a cheek amidst woodwinds and well-polished brasses a house abutting an abyss with in cut-away view the violated virginity of the daughter of the house the lost goods and chattels of the father and the mother who believed in the dignity of mankind and in the bottom of a wool stocking the testicles pierced by the knitting needle of an unemployed workman from distant lands.
I place my hand on my forehead it’s a hatching of monsoons. I place my hand on my dick. It fainted in leaf smoke. All the deserter light of the sky has taken refuge in the red white and yellow heated bars of snakes attentive to the wasting away of this landscape sneered at by dog piss.
For what?
The planets are very fertile birds that constantly and majestically disclose their guano silos
the earth on its spit alternatively vomits grease from each of its facets
fistfuls of fish hook their emergency lights to the pilasters of stars whose ancient slippage crumbles away during the night in a thick very bitter flavor of coca.
Who among you has never happened to strike an earth because of its inhabitants’ malice? Today I am standing and in the sole whiteness that men have never recognized in me.
Aimé Césaire: The Collected Poetry
Copyright ©:
2010. Translated by Clayton Eshleman & A. James Arnold
A few random poems:
- Ribbons & Pearls by Timothy Cole
- Argus poem – Alexander Pope
- What Are Big Girls Made Of? by Marge Piercy
- For My Young Friends Who Are Afraid by William Stafford
- Олег Бундур – Скука
- ” As faith thus sanctified the warrior’s crest” by William Wordsworth
- The Call of the Crows by Tanmoy
- The Beacon Fires
- A Good Father by William Barnes
- Loving In Truth, And Fain In Verse My Love To Show by Sir Philip Sidney
- Love is Reckless by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- Conviction (i) by Stevie Smith
- Владимир Гиляровский – На Севере
- Владимир Высоцкий – Заповедник
- A Riddle: On A Kiss by William Strode
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- The Match poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- The Mower Against Gardens poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- The Garden poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- The Gallery poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- The First Anniversary Of The Government Under O.C. poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- The Fair Singer poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- The Death of Cromwell poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- The Coronet poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- The Character Of Holland poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- Senec. Traged. Ex Thyeste Chor.2 poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- Ros poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- On The Victory Obtained By Blake Over the Spaniards, In The Bay Of Scanctacruze, In The Island Of teneriff.1657 poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- On Mr. Milton’s Paradise Lost poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- On A Drop Of Dew poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- Mourning poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- Music’s Empire poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- Last Instructions to a Painter poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- In Effigiem Oliveri Cromwell poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- Hortus poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- Fleckno, an English Priest at Rome poem – Andrew Marvell poems
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works