There are so many oak trees in Atlanta that moan still
Fields that mourn
That also sing
And that imprint upon capsules of cotton unbelievable torsions!
It is this mixture
It is this torsion
This most unbearable that coats the takeoff of beautiful and sole images!
May the sea more than History to you be gentle
May she commemorate you
May the archipelago more than country make of you a necklace
May that which mixes
in watercolor and in Shakespeare
in tales, theater, and books
prepare for you a throne of seafoam
where you will come to sit with the green mango from places beyond the day.
O sole language of salt to the eyelid touched
O laughter within friendship sealed
May poetry tremble not!
May poetry pass not!
Brother,
whatever is said whatever is done
no death knows
when that which remains
is meshed with all that celebrates that welcomes that embraces
and that ties.
In us, no death can.
(For Derek Walcott)
Patrick Chamoiseau (born 1953) Martinique
Translated by Charly Verstraet and Jeffrey Landon Allen
Source: SX Salon
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