Return To My Native Land
(Aimé Césaire)
Make me refractory to vanity, but docile to their genius
as the fist to the extended arm!
make me commissar of their blood
make me trustee of their resentments
make me a man of termination
make me a man of initiation
make me a man of meditation
but also make me a man of germination
make me the executioner of these mighty deeds
this is the time to gird one's loins like a valiant man
but so doing, my heart, preserve me from all hatred
do not make me that man of hate for whom
I feel nothing but hate
for cantonned in this unique race
you know, however, that my tyrannical love is not out of hatred for other races
that I am the toiler of this unique race
what I want
is for the universal hunger
for the universal thirst
I call the race to be finally free
to produce out of its closed intimacy
the succulence of fruit.
And be the tree of our hands!
it turns for all, the wounds notched in its trunk
for all the soil works
and lures towards the branches a perfumed precipitousness
but before landing at future orchards
let me merit those on the sash of sea
may I keep my heart while awaiting the earth
may I keep over this sterile ocean
but caressed by the promise of changing wind
may I keep over this various ocean
the obstinacy of the proud canoe
and its vigour at sea
Behold, it advances, rising and falling on the pulverised wave
wath it dance the sacred dance before the grey of the town
watch it trumpet like the vertiginous conch of elephant
watch the conch gallop to the uncertain edge of the hills
and the paddle with twenty vigorous strokes compels the water
the canoe rears under the assault of...
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