Felix Morriseau-Leroy

Natif-Natal

Translation by Jeffrey Knapp

(Continued from issue V-1)

let no god come and play the beautiful
the true
the just
after all that has happened under his eyes
in these last two thousand years
even if he were Mr. Bergson himself
I would be vehement
could they have lost the sense of words
to the point where responsibility
is but an entry in a pocket dictionary
an off-rhyme of iniquity?

never mind!
don't confuse music with song!
anyhow
having said this, bring the drums together for a great sabbath
since that is what is left to us
whom shall we praise?

as long as we have this planet under our feet
who knows. let us play. pushing it with our heels
our shoulders. our voices
come what comes
and from what fatigue from what fatigue
will be born our new redeemers?

melanie throws her sandals to the stars
wraps a scarf around her waist
qnd spreads her ultimate fate

dance, the dance at least has kept the memory
of a whole forgotten universe
whatever it does or doesn't do
all has the form of a body
woman or man
even the sea with its lead muscles, dressed in blue
one will see or know by oneself alone
what without the drum the world would ignore
look here, one may pour without measure
not a drop will fall from the urn
throw over the abyss the weight of a crowd
no acddent will occur
the moons will leave their orbit
this rhythm is exempt from error
and what native land
after a cruel absence
has ever been found whole
except you
the dance, at least, has kept the memory
of those horrors

and I know a forest of masts
of black-out holds of slave ships
of waiting in fields of cotton
in mourning white
in coffee fields
black mourning
in cane fields
of blue wine
so your nights
neither hurt nor disturb me
unsated americas
which still haven't enough of my blood
my cries
my silences
my seditious laughter
here's the last jerk of hips
by which I civilize you
only the dance does not deceive
but the roads are reopened
let the girl pass through, more prodigal than ever
she uproots herself from the soil
flowers without being a plant
and flies though not a bird
o bearer of the urn
the flag, the sword
hail mute messenger
hail dark temple
good days. my children
good days, my daughters
all is right
in east
west
north
south

and I know the secret of such songs
of voices pregnant with storms
so sweet with love

young men, are you beating the drum
or just kidding
give me the sticks, I'll teach you
or help you cultivate your field
and from however far one hears the message
from however far this vodou is heard
from evening to morning
from however far one has run to come
one knows that this is it
the real thing

as everyone sees in her
the selected
awaited
elected
the inspired heiress of temple mysteries
mistress melanie accepts the role
yes, but the gods behave themselves well
since those million days that have gone so bad
it's about time they do what we say
she invokes the magic
of water, fire. and earth
the courage of humankind
so that again, once again
it may all be possible

they say that maitre agoue loves the sea
oh, not as much as we-
he has never lost his children in shipwrecks
they say that maitre agoue loves the sea
oh, not as much as we-
he has never lost his wealth in the storm
oh, not as much as we
oh, not as much as we
he has no children of his flesh
he has no wealth of his sweat
oh, not as much as we
we shall weave such solid ropes
we shall build such rapid boats
so that more than we and better than we
agoue agoue of the sea
our children will bless your name
our children will sing your glory

They say maitre agoue loves the spring
but not as much as we do
he's never seen his people die in the ravines
they say that maitre agoue loves the spring
oh, not as much as we do
he's never seen his fields sear in drought
agoue, who are your friends?
agoue, where are your gardens?
oh, not as much as we
we build such strong temples
we plant such sturdy trees
more than we and better than we
have ever done
agoue oh agoue of the waters
our children will reign rule the plain
our children will serve their gods

maitre agoue comes back from a voyage
what does he bring
agoue here agoue there
what does he bring
maitre agoue comes back from the americas
what does he bring
he brings back an engine
sailors, let's celebrate
he brings back an engine
oars, sleep in the woods
let's listen to agoue's engine
seamen, rejoice
our arms can now rest
cut the waters
my steel-tailed snake
split open the waters
my silver-haired rainbow
sailors, give thanks
seamen, celebrate
our drums join yours
no more will they cease
voices of forest and earth.

pull down the gates, I say
our fields are too small
when the harvest comes
there will be enough
when the harvest comes (it will come!)
all the children will eat
all the children will eat
all the children will eat
these are my people, these are my friends
if the earth is ours
(and it is ours, no doubt)
why divide it?
I say open the gates
let abundance in
press elbows together
my friends, what's happening?
the country has changed
shoulder to shoulder
together we bend
together we rise
for the land is ours
I see so grand a garden
I see so lovely a land
I say when the harvest comes
there will be enough for all
for all to eat
for all to dance
for all to wrestle
for all to sleep
for all to die for

I remake my way
go ahead, my fellows
I remake my road
that herbs will not cover
I restore my garden
for the earth to feel my weight
I replant my garden
that weeds won't sprout in
the sun won't burn it
the river won't erode it
the wicked can't spoil it
I rebuild my house
my father my mother
I rebuild my house
fire can no longer destroy it
the wind can no longer throw it
peasants-what is it
it was the time it was the hour
peasants-I ask I shout
what is it for us
it was the hour it was the time
I remake my way
go ahead, my fellows
I remake my road
that herbs will not cover
I restore my garden
for the earth to feel my weight
I replant my garden
that weeds won't sprout in
the sun won't burn it
the river won't erode it
the wicked can't spoil it
I rebuild my house
my father my mother
I rebuild my house
fire can no longer destroy it
the wind can no longer throw it
peasants-what is it
it was the time it was the hour
peasants-I ask I shout
what is it for us
it was the hour it was the time

I reconstruct my temple
my nights, my moons
I rebuild my temple
so people respect it
so the gods respect it
and I cry drums
and I call my brothers
my brothers have heard me
I retrace my trails
where we avoided the traps
on the sea and land
I retrace my roads
so the douds. the waters
the enemies can't block them
I enliven my song
I rebuild my village--
nothing left to chance
to make it prosper .
I rebuild my country
with all my brother's help
I cry out my songs

then so be it
or not
so be it
and I build the boats
and plant the field
and clear the pond
enlarge the houses
reforest the slopes
multiply the harvest
and sharpen the tongues
and rejuvenate the laughter
the fertile humor
and the word made a radiant world
and the sea fills with new sails
and the cattle fatten
and the fruits gold-ripen
and the market lights up by the crowd's smile
spring mirrors in the eyes of the youth
three times throw water
at the doors. my daughter
for all your answered prayers

one has so much loved the joy and pain combined
in the brotherhood
welcomed birth and death
the same
such a joke. the mask of good and evil
so much preferred. this native-born air
that december distills
with
sun and honey
and all that together
we have taken back
from the fecund childhood
from the longest, most perilous
dream adventure
by the power of whom and what
each may enter and leave by the closed door
come and go by the blocked road
pull up the dagger
from the spine of the royal beast!

one would have so much loved this mare of the gods
oh there is still uneasiness in her eyes
her fIrst masters were so rude
and so beat her flanks
with wrinkled straps
that now
even the caress of a man's hand
brings pain and sorrow
as if her skin were the skin of a drum
on all the docks
where she embarked
she beheld the rising of sun and moon
above the shoulders of the stooped dock-hands
who only whinnied like horses
for the sole pleasure of the bosses
she who drank freely
under the placid rainbow
and discovered alone long ago
without motion
the silence of Pascal
behind a curtain of branches and stars

so it happened that the supreme god's wife
red-tempered
ordered the temples defiled
and as for the riff-raff who were permitted
to swindle the favors of
the eternal fathers and mothers and sons
she would settle their score for good

then one day
a divine messenger came
flanked by two armed angels
melanie appeared and looked at them
from all over they came and looked at them
With such eyes of springtime
that they left terrified
then melanie calls back the archangel
sings in his ear the password
he turns his back
to the other world
and blends With village youth
while the girl recounts this

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Cover Design: Joseph McNair