Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен)
To a Brown Boy
That brown girl's swagger gives a twitch To beauty like a Queen, Lad, never damn your body's itch When loveliness is seen. For there is ample room for bliss In pride in clean brown limbs, And lips know better how to kiss Than how to raise white hymns. And when your body's death gives birth To soil for spring to crown, Men will not ask if that rare earth Was white flesh once, or brown.
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