October Butterfly
—Photo by Michelle Kunert, Sacramento
THE DAY WE DIE
—Anonymous
The day we die
the wind comes down
to take away
our footprints.
The wind makes dust
to cover up
the marks we left
while walking.
For otherwise
the thing would seem
as if we were
still living.
Therefore the wind
is he who comes
to blow away
our footprints.
(trans. from the San by Arthur Markowitz)
______________________
SONG OF A MARRIAGEABLE GIRL
—Anonymous
—Anonymous
Will a man come for me?
The good spirit of the forest knows.
The good spirit of the forest knows.
He could tell little Medje;
But he will not tell.
There are things it is not right to know:
If there will be dew on the grass tomorrow,
If the fish will come to the trap and be caught,
If a spell put on the gazelle
Will let my father kill it.
(trans. from the Pygmy by Willard Trask, after O. De Labrouhe)
_______________________
OSHUN, THE RIVER GODDESS
—Anonymous
—Anonymous
Brass and parrots' feathers
on a velvet skin.
White cowrie shells
on black buttocks.
Her eyes sparkle in the forest,
like the sun on the river.
She is the wisdom of the forest
she is the wisdom of the river.
Where the doctor failed
she cures with fresh water.
Where medicine is impotent
she cures with cool water.
She cures the child
and does not charge the father.
She feeds the barren woman with honey
and her dry body swells up
like a juicy palm fruit.
Oh, how sweet
is the touch of child's hand!
(trans. from the Yoruba by Ulli Beier)
_____________________
LOVE SONG
—Anonymous
—Anonymous
I painted by eyes with black antimony
I girded myself with amulets.
I will satisfy my desire,
you my slender boy.
I walk behind the wall.
I have covered my bosom.
I shall knead colored clay
I shall paint the house of my friend,
O my slender boy.
I shall take my piece of silver
I will buy silk.
I will gird myself with amulets
I will satisfy my desire
the horn of antimony in my hand,
O my slender boy!
(trans. from the Bagirmi by Ulli Beier, after H. Gaden)
_______________________
LULLABY
—Anonymous
Someone would like to have you for her child
but you are mine.
Someone would like to rear you on a costly mat
but you are mine.
Someone would like to place you on a camel blanket
but you are mine.
I have you to rear on a torn old mat.
Someone would like to have you for her child
but you are mine.
(trans. from the Akan by Kwabena Nketia)
_______________________
THE DEAD MAN ASKS FOR A SONG
—Anonymous
—Anonymous
Sing me a song of the dead,
That I may take it with me.
A song of the underworld sing me,
That I may take it with me
And travel to the underworld.
The underworld says,
Says the underworld:
It is beautiful in the grave.
Beautiful is the underworld
It is beautiful in the grave.
Beautiful is the underworld
But there is no wine to drink there.
So I will take it with me
And travel to the underworld
And travel to the underworld.
Sing me a song of the dead,
That I may take it with me.
A song of the underworld sing me,
That I may take it with me
And travel to the underworld.
(trans. from the Ewe by Willard Trask, after Jakob Spieth)
______________________
Today's LittleNip:
RAINDROPS
Today's LittleNip:
RAINDROPS
—Janet L. Pantoja, Woodinville, WA
Reverberate on his tin
Roof, pour off the edges, formReverberate on his tin
Rivulets around the man’s
Residence—a tiny shack.
Rich folks don’t worry about
Rain. Dry inside mansions, they
Rarely ponder plight of poor.
______________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Janet Pantoja for Today's LittleNip, and Michelle Kunert for the photos. Our other poems today are African, from the 20th century. Thanks to them, too!
Cynthia Linville, Jen Jenkins, Lytton Bell, Shawn Aveningo
as "Poetica Erotica" takes the stage at Shine Cafe
Wednesday, October 12
—Photo by Michelle Kunert
(For more photos from the Shine reading, go to
Medusa's Facebook page)