BALLAD OF MY TWO GRANDFATHERS/ BALLAD OF THE RIVER SPIRITS
BALLAD OF MY TWO GRANDFATHERS
Shadows that only I can see
My two grandfathers go with me.
Lance with head of bone,
drum of leather and of wood
my black grandfather.
Ruff round his broad throat,
grey warrior’s armour;
my white grandfather.
Naked foot, body of rock,
these from my black man;
pupils of Antarctic glass,
these from my white man.
Africa of dank forests
and heavy muffled gongs
I am dying
(says my black grandfather)
Black water of crocodiles,
green morning of coco palms,
I am weary
(says my white grandfather)
O sails of bitter wind galleon burning gold.
I am dying
(says my black grandfather)
O coasts of virgin throats
cheated with glass trinkets.
I am weary
(says my white grandfather)
O pure sun of beaten gold,
caught in the hoop of the tropics
O pure moon so round and clear over the sleep of monkeys.
How many ships! How many ships!
How many Negroes! How many Negroes!
What long refulgence of sugar-cane!
What lashes those of the slave-trader!
Blood? Blood! Tears? Tears!
Half-opened veins and eye-lids
and empty day-breaks
and sunsets on plantations
and a great voice, a strong voice
shattering the silence.
And O the ships, so many ships,
so many Negroes.
Shadows that only I can see
my two grandfathers go with me.
Don Federico shouts to me
and Taita Facundo is silent;
and both dream on through the night, bring them together.
Federico. Facundo. They both embrace.
They both sigh. They both raise their
proud heads under the high stars
both of the same stature
black anguish and white anguish
Both of the same stature.
And they shout. And dream. And weep. And sing. And sing, and sing, and sing.
(Translated from the Spanish by G. R. Coulthard)