By Aime Cesaire, Peter de Francia, John Berger, Anna Bostock
A piece of giant cultural value and sweetness, this lengthy poem grew to become an anthem for the African diaspora and the start of the Negritude circulation. With strange juxtapositions of item and metaphor, a bouquet of language-play, and deeply resonant rhythms, Césaire thought of this paintings a "break into the forbidden," right away a cry of uprising and a party of black identity.
"The maximum residing poet within the French language."--American ebook Review
"Martinique poet Aime Cesaire is likely one of the few natural surrealists alive at the present time. by way of this I suggest that his paintings hasn't ever compromised its wild universe of double meanings, stretched syntax, and unforeseen imagery. This lengthy poem was once written on the finish of global warfare II and have become an anthem for plenty of blacks world wide. Eshleman and Smith have revised their unique 1983 translations and given it extra energy by means of offering Cesaire's distinctive voice as testomony to an international shrunk by means of catastrophic events." --Bloomsbury evaluation
"Through his common demand the honor of human dignity, recognition and accountability, he'll stay a logo of wish for all oppressed peoples." --Nicolas Sarkozy
"Evocative and considerate, relating human aspiration some distance past the size of its particular issues with Cesaire's homeland - Martinique." --The Times
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Additional info for Return to my Native Land
Virginia. Tennessee. Georgia. Alabama Monstrous putrefactions of revolts coming to nothing, putrid marshes of blood trumpets ridiculously blocked Red earth, blood earth, blood brother earth. Mine too a small cell in the Jura, the snow strengthens the small cell with white bars the snow is a white gaoler who stands guard in front of a prison This man is mine a man alone, imprisoned by whiteness a man alone defying the white cries of a white death (TOUSSAINT, TOUSSAINT LOUVERTURE) a man who fascinates the white sparrow-hawk of white death a man alone in the sterile sea of white sand an old nigger standing upright against the waters of the sky Death describes a shining circle above this man death is a gentle star above his head death, driven mad, blowing in the ripe cane plantation of his arms death galloping through the prison like a white horse death gleaming like a cat’s eyes in the dark death hiccuping like water underneath the Reefs death is a wounded bird death wanes death vacillates death is a shady scavenger death expires in a white pool of silence.
The tree of our hands is for all! It is converting the wounds which were cut in its trunk the soil works and among the branches heady sweet blossoms of haste But before I set foot in these future orchards let me deserve them on the encircling sea give me my heart while waiting for land on the sterile ocean where the taut sail promises and soothes on the changeable ocean give me the obstinacy of the proud canoe and its seafaring power Here advancing, climbing and falling on the pulverized tide, here dancing the sacred dance in front of the greyness of the town here roaring out a vertiginous lambi galloping the lambi all the way to the irresolute Heights Strongly with a plough stroke twenty times repeated the paddle divides the water the canoe jibs at the force of the blade instantly swerves tries to flee the paddle coaxes and brings it round the canoe surges forward a shiver down the spine of the wave the sea foams at the mouth and scolds like a sleigh the canoe beaches on the sand.
Rise, phantoms, chemical-blue from a forest of hunted beasts of twisted machines of jujube-trees of rotten flesh of a basket of oysters of eyes of a lacework of lashes cut from the lovely sisal of human skin I would have words huge enough to contain you all and you too stretched earth drunken earth earth great sex raised in the sun earth great delirium of the phallus of God earth risen wild from the sea’s locker with a bunch of cecrops in your mouth earth whose surfing face I must compare to the mad and virgin forests that I would wish to wear as countenance before the undeciphering eyes of men.