Showing posts with label David Diop. Show all posts
Showing posts with label David Diop. Show all posts

Monday, 9 January 2017

Close to You by David Diop

Close to You

Close to you I have regained my name
My name long hidden beneath the salt of distances
I have regained eyes no longer veiled by fevers
And your laugh like a flame making holes in the dark
Has given Africa back to me beyond the snows of yesterday
Ten years of my love
And mornings of illusion and wreckage of ideas
And sleep peopled with alcohol
Ten years and the breath of the world has poured its
pain upon me
Pain that loads the present with the flavor of tomorrows
And makes of love an immeasurable river
Close to you I have regained the memory of my blood
And necklaces of laughter around the days
Days that sparkle with joys renewed.

David Diop

David Mandessi Diop was born on July 9, 1927 in Bordeaux, France to a Senegalese father and a Cameroonian mother. Back to Senegal, Diop started writing at a very tender age and he was one of the most promising French West African poets known forhis contribution to the Négritude literary movement. His work reflects his hatred of colonial rulers and his hope for an independent Africa. He died in a plane crash, at the age of 33, in 1960.

Monday, 12 October 2015

The Vultures by David Diop

The Vultures

In that time
When civilization struck with insults
When holy water struck domesticated brows
The vultures built in the shadow of their claws
The bloody monument of the tutelary era
In that time
Laughter gasped its last in the metallic hell of roads
And the monotonous rhythm of Paternosters
Covered the groans on plantations run for profit
O sour memory of extorted kisses
Promises mutilated by machine- gun blasts
Strange men who were not men
You knew all the books you did not know love
Or the hands that fertilize the womb of the earth
The roots of our hands deep as revolt
Despite your hymns of pride among boneyards
Villages laid waste and Africa dismembered
Hope lived in us like a citadel
And from the mines of Swaziland to the heavy sweat of Europe’s factories
Spring will put on flesh under our steps of light.

David Diop

David Mandessi Diop was born on July 9, 1927 in Bordeaux, France to a Senegalese father and a Cameroonian mother. Back to Senegal, Diop started writing at a very tender age and he was one of the most promising French West African poets known forhis contribution to the Négritude literary movement. His work reflects his hatred of colonial rulers and his hope for an independent Africa. He died in a plane crash, at the age of 33, in 1960.

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Tuesday, 8 September 2015

Certitude by David Diop

Certitude

To those who fatten themselves on murder
And measure the stages of their reign by corpes
I say that days and men
That the sun and the stars
Are shaping out the rhythmic brotherhood of all people
I say that heart and the head
Are joined together in the battle line
And there is not a single day
When somewhere summer does not spring up
I say that manly tempests
Will crush those who barter other' s patience
And the seasons allied with men' s bodies
Will see the enactment of triumphant exploits .

David Diop

David Mandessi Diop was born on July 9, 1927 in Bordeaux, France to a Senegalese father and a Cameroonian mother. Back to Senegal, Diop started writing at a very tender age and he was one of the most promising French West African poets known forhis contribution to the Négritude literary movement. His work reflects his hatred of colonial rulers and his hope for an independent Africa. He died in a plane crash, at the age of 33, in 1960.

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Sunday, 30 August 2015

Close to You by David Diop

Close to You

Close to you I have regained my name
My name long hidden beneath the salt of distances
I have regained eyes no longer veiled by fevers
And your laugh like a flame making holes in the dark
Has given Africa back to me beyond the snows of yesterday
Ten years of my love
And mornings of illusion and wreckage of ideas
And sleep peopled with alcohol
Ten years and the breath of the world has poured its
pain upon me
Pain that loads the present with the flavor of tomorrows
And makes of love an immeasurable river
Close to you I have regained the memory of my blood
And necklaces of laughter around the days
Days that sparkle with joys renewed.

David Diop

David Mandessi Diop was born on July 9, 1927 in Bordeaux, France to a Senegalese father and a Cameroonian mother. Back to Senegal, Diop started writing at a very tender age and he was one of the most promising French West African poets known forhis contribution to the Négritude literary movement. His work reflects his hatred of colonial rulers and his hope for an independent Africa. He died in a plane crash, at the age of 33, in 1960.

Tuesday, 4 August 2015

Your presence by David Diop

Your presence

In your presence I have rediscovered my name
My name that was hidden so long under the pain of separation
I have rediscovered the eyes no longer veiled with fever
And your laugther like a flame piercing the shadows
Has revealed Africa to me beyond the snows of yesterday
Ten years my love
With days of illusion and abandoned ideas
And sleep restless with alcohol
Ten years of suffering poured on me from the world' s breath
Suffering that burdens today with the taste of tommorow
And turns love into a boundless river
In your presence I have rediscovered the memory of my blood
And the necklaces of laugther hung round our days
Days sparkling with ever new joys .

David Diop

David Mandessi Diop was born on July 9, 1927 in Bordeaux, France to a Senegalese father and a Cameroonian mother. Back to Senegal, Diop started writing at a very tender age and he was one of the most promising French West African poets known forhis contribution to the Négritude literary movement. His work reflects his hatred of colonial rulers and his hope for an independent Africa. He died in a plane crash, at the age of 33, in 1960.

Monday, 3 August 2015

Africa by David Diop

Africa

Africa my Africa
Africa of proud warriors in ancestral savannahs
Africa of whom my grandmother sings
On the banks of the distant river
I have never known you
But your blood flows in my veins
Your beautiful black blood that irrigates the fields
The blood of your sweat
The sweat of your work
The work of your slavery
Africa, tell me Africa
Is this your back that is unbent
This back that never breaks under the weight of
humilation
This back trembling with red scars
And saying no to the whip under the midday sun
But a grave voice answers me
Impetuous child that tree , young and strong
That tree over there
Splendidly alone amidst white and faded flowers
That is your Africa springing up anew
springing up patiently , obstinately
Whose fruit bit by bit acquires
The bitter taste of liberty.

David Diop

French (Original language of the poem)

Afrique mon Afrique
Afrique des fiers guerriers dans les savanes
ancestrales
Afrique que me chantait ma grand - mère
Au bord de son fleuve lointain
Je ne t’ai jamais connue
Mais mon regard est plein de ton sang
Ton beau sang noir à travers les champs répandu
Le sang de ta sueur
La sueur de ton travail
Le travail de l’ esclavage
L’esclavage de tes enfants
Afrique dis - moi Afrique
Est- ce donc toi ce dos qui se courbe
Et se couche sous le poids de l’humilité
Ce dos tremblant à zébrures rouges
Qui dit oui au fouet sur les routes de midi
Alors gravement une voix me répondit
Fils impétueux cet arbre robuste et jeune
Cet arbre là - bas
Splendidement seul au milieu de fleurs blanches
et fanées
C’est l ’Afrique ton Afrique qui repousse
Qui repousse patiemment obstinément
Et dont les fruits ont peu à peu
L’amère saveur de la liberté.

David Diop

David Mandessi Diop was born on July 9, 1927 in Bordeaux, France to a Senegalese father and a Cameroonian mother. Back to Senegal, Diop started writing at a very tender age and he was one of the most promising French West African poets known forhis contribution to the Négritude literary movement. His work reflects his hatred of colonial rulers and his hope for an independent Africa. He died in a plane crash, at the age of 33, in 1960.

Friday, 24 July 2015

The Renegade by David Diop

My brother you flash your teeth in response to every hyprocrisy
My brother with gold-rimmed glasses
You give your master a blue-eyed faithful look
My poor brother in immaculate evening dress
Screaming and whispering and pleading in the parlours of condescension
We pity you
Your country's burning sun is nothing but a shadow
On your serene ‘civilized’ brow
And the thought of your grandmother's hut
Brings blushes to your face that is bleached
By years of humiliation and bad conscience
And while you trample on the bitter red soil of Africa
Let these words of anguish keep time with your restless
Step -
Oh I am lonely so lonely here.

David Diop

David Mandessi Diop was born on July 9, 1927 in Bordeaux, France to a Senegalese father and a Cameroonian mother. Back to Senegal, Diop started writing at a very tender age and he was one of the most promising French West African poets known for his contribution to the Négritude literary movement. His work reflects his hatred of colonial rulers and his hope for an independent Africa. He died in a plane crash, at the age of 33, in 1960.

For Anita Roddick, a poem by Ken Saro-Wiwa

For Anita Roddick Had I a voice I would sing your song Had I a tongue I would speak your praise Had I the time I would live for you But here...