In the sun’s path
three tongues of fire
stripe the azure sky.
Crowned in purplefull of fickle shadows
the valley prepares
its morning toilet.
Nothing moves
but the palm-squrrel
skipping from bush to bush
or the toucan
who clacks his beak
spinning from branch to branch
The sun appears.
Its crimson robe falls
softening all the colors.
The valley decks itself in green
spangled with rust.
The wind blows
cool and aimless.
In a golden wake
a swarm of bees
hurns past.
Fily Dabo Sissoko (1900 - 1964) Mali
Translator not stated, but possibly Ellen Conroy Kennedy
Source: The Negritude Poets, Ellen Conroy Kennedy (ed.), The Viking Press, 1975
three tongues of fire
stripe the azure sky.
Crowned in purplefull of fickle shadows
the valley prepares
its morning toilet.
Nothing moves
but the palm-squrrel
skipping from bush to bush
or the toucan
who clacks his beak
spinning from branch to branch
The sun appears.
Its crimson robe falls
softening all the colors.
The valley decks itself in green
spangled with rust.
The wind blows
cool and aimless.
In a golden wake
a swarm of bees
hurns past.
Fily Dabo Sissoko (1900 - 1964) Mali
Translator not stated, but possibly Ellen Conroy Kennedy
Source: The Negritude Poets, Ellen Conroy Kennedy (ed.), The Viking Press, 1975
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