Also to the slave a humble grave
A moan comes from nostalgia:
Only one tear runs upon it
From compassion maybe....
Son of Africa, finally free of irons
You sleep peaceful the eternal sleep
Under this ground that you watered
With tears and sweat.
Sure, sweeter it would be now
To lay there in the middle of your deserts
At the shadow of the palm, under
Merciful dew of nostalgic eyes
To irrigate your grave;
There, many times in nights of clear moon,
A moaning song, of monotonous sound
From rustic lira played by your brothers,
Your manes rouse:
But here - you lay as a leaf
Fallen in the dust of the road,
Pressed under the indifferent feet
Of a passing by traveller.
But what does it matter- if found the rest,
Which in vain sought in this dark valley,
Fertile of tears and pain;
What matters - if there is not on this earth
A quiet asylum for the unfortunates?
The earth is only for the rich and powerful,
And these idols that fortune praises,
Who, drunken of pride,
Drive, without seeing that with fast wheels
Their golden carriages crush a beggar
In the mud of the way! ...
But the heaven is for the one who in life
Under the weight of the cross passes moaning;
It is for the one who on the wounds of the miserable
Let flow the sweet balm of tears;
And the unfortunate orphan, the tired elder,
Those who lean the indigence in all burden;
to the poor captive, who in works
In the rude anxiety exhales the extreme breath;
-- Heaven is for the innocence and virtue,
Heaven is for the misfortune.
Rest now at peace, faithful slave,
You who in your grave broke your chains,
Within this land that you watered
With tears and sweat.
And you who came to visit the death
This gloomy room,
Leave at least one tear drop
From compassion on this humble grave;
Here rests the ashes of the African,
-- The symbol of misfortune
Notes
This poem Guimarães wrote in honour of a slave who passed away. Guimarães bought his freedom, after have met him as a 'servant' in the University of São Paulo. He also bought that African man a small store.
To read the original in Portuguese click here
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/121930-Bernardo-Guimaraes-A-Sepultura-De-Um-Escravo
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Comments
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Great men aren't always remembered like they should, and too often we laud those who are notorious rather than great. Criminals are sometimes remembered forever while men who help others are forgotten.
By calling him "slave" rather than by name, I assume he wishes to point at the injustice and the irony of that word, and the institution.
Where are those voices now...the poet, the lyricist who speaks out about injustice...I guess it's a different medium that dominates now, and it's one less concerned with the balancing of justice's scale.
And once again, thanks to the translator, and for the note at the end. It added to the clarity and depth of the poem. -
This is very powerful, an indictment of slavery in the world not just Brazil; but a forgotten part of it all...how even in death captured and forcibly dislocated peoples remained separated from home and family, free choice became an eternal loss in the sense that home, family might also have been destroyed by slavery. There is power in the remembrance of a human being as well as the status...and here this is for a man who was freed, but not free of the events of his time. Excellent poetry such compelling ideas, from a period long ago...many translations challenges from old words and usages...here all done so well the beauty and power of this poem come through in translation...excellent poetry brought to English and with artistry...PK
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