Carlos de Assumpção (1927) is a brazilian poet and cultural organizer. His ancerstors were slaves and his work speaks about Afrobrazilian culture, old and modern slavery, racism, tradition and pride of being black. Although being one of the greatest poets of the 20th century in Brazil, his works has been ignored or forgotten, possibly because of his skin.
Protest
Even if you turn your back
to my blazing words
I won’t stop screaming
I won’t stop
I won’t stop screaming
Gentleman
I was sent to the world
To protest
Lies tinsel nothing
Nothing will shut me up
Gentleman
Beneath the night wall
With no one paying attention
Many of my ancestors
Dead for so long
Gather in my house
And we start talking
About bitter things
About fetters and chains
That were visible in the past
About fetters and chains
That are invisible in the present
Invisible but existent
In arms in thought
In steps in dreams in life
Of each of those who live
Together with me foundling of the Motherland
Gentleman
My ancestors’ blood
That runs through my veins
Are cries of rebellion
One day perhaps someone will ask
Moved by my suffering
Who is screaming
Who is bemoaning like this
Who is it?
And I will answer
It’s me brother
Brother, don’t you know me?
I am the one who became
Victim of men
I’m the one who being a man
Was sold by men
At public auctions
Who was sold or traded
Like any tool
I’m the one who planted
Sugarcane and coffee
And watered them with sweat and blood
The one who sustained
On strong black shoulders
The country’s progress
Who suffered a thousand tortures
Who cries uselessly
Who had given everything I possessed
And today has nothing
But if today I shout it is not
For what has happened
What’s happened is past
My heart has already forgiven
Today I shout, my brother,
Because after everything
Justice has never arrived.
I’m the one who shouts it’s me
The deceived in the past
Deprecated in the present
I’m the one who screams it’s me
It’s me, brother, the one
Who lived in prison
Who worked in prison
Who suffered in prison
So the foundation of the nation
Could be built
The foundation of the nation
Has the rocks of my arms
Has the chalk of my tears
That’s why the nation is sad
It’s huge but sad
And amongso many sad people
Brother, I’m the saddest
My story is told
With bitter inks
One day under ovations and roses of joy
They threw me suddenly
From the prison where I was
To a bigger prison.
It was a Trojan Horse
The freedom that they gave me
Had future poisons
Under the veil of enthusiasm.
One day they threw me suddenly
Like sugar cane leftovers
Like coffee chaff
Like a worthless thing
That was no use at all.
One day they threw me suddenly
Into the gutter of dereliction street
Under ovations and roses of joy.
I’ve always dreamed with freedom
But the freedom that I was given
Was more illusion than freedom.
Brother, it’s me who shouts.
I have strong reasons
Brother, it’s me who shouts.
I have more necessity
Of shouting than breathing.
But, brother, be aware
Pity is not what I want
Pity doesn’t interest me
The weak ask for pity
I want better stuff
I no longer want to live
In the basement of society
I don’t want to be an outcast
I want to go everywhere
I want to be welcomed
Enough of humiliations
My soul is already tired
I want the sun that belongs to everyone
Either I achieve everything I want
Or I will shout all night
Like volcanoes scream
Like gales scream
Like oceans scream
And even death won’t have the strength
To shut me up
Naivety
The little girl said angrily
That her classmate
Called me a nigger
And added:
“God will punish her teacher
She will marry a black man”
Mother
Night,
Years have moon painted your hair,
However, everything is happening now,
At this moment.
Night,
After many years,
At this moment,
I see everything in front of me,
As if watching a movie
from childhood:
We, your children, all young,
The clock stopped at the time of deprivation,
So many dreams’ wings broken around the corners
Of our poor home, inhospitable;
You, still blooming woman, so kind, so serene,
Constellation of hope and tenderness
Inspiring shelter,
Inspiring faith, love,
In between gusts of wind.
Night,
Your struggle was for us your biggest lesson
You suffered (now I know), yet,
In our presence, never a tear
Rolled down your face.
Night,
Since childhood I learnt to love you,
But only now, adult, I see, affected,
The uncountable stars that shine in your soul
And that many storms could not extinguish.
Read more – LEIA MAIS