Стихотворения Брукс Гвендолин (на английском языке)

Life for My Child Is Simple, and Is Good [1949]

Life for my child is simple, and is good.

He knows his wish. Yes, but that is not all.

Because I know mine too.

And we both want joy of undeep and unabiding things,

Like Kicking over a chair or throwing blocks out of a window

Or tipping over an icebox pan

Or snatching down curtains or fingering an electric outlet

Or a journey or a friend or an illegal kiss.

No. There is more to it than that.

It is that he has never been afraid.

Rather, he reaches out and lo the chair falls with a beautiful crash

And the blocks fall, down on the people’s heads,

And the water comes slooshing sloopily out across the floor.

And so forth.

Not that success, for him, is sure, infallible.

But never has he been afraid to reach.

His lesions are legion.

Young Afrikans

of the furious

Who take Today and jerk it out of joint   
have made new underpinnings and a Head.   

Blacktime is time for chimeful
but they decree a
jagged chiming now.

If there are flowers flowers
must come out to the road. Rowdy!—
knowing where wheels and people are,
knowing where whips and screams are,
knowing where deaths are, where the kind kills are.   

As for that other kind of kindness,
if there is milk it must be mindful.
The milkofhumankindness must be mindful   
as wily wines.
Must be fine fury.
Must be mega, must be main.

Taking Today (to jerk it out of joint)
the hardheroic maim the
leechlike-as-usual who use,
adhere to, carp, and harm.

And they await,
across the Changes and the spiraling dead,   
our Black revival, our Black vinegar,   
our hands, and our hot blood

Источник: https://ryfma.com/p/wYZ3gmNQczTLvj2oM/young-afrikans