This is the dark time, my love,
All round the land brown beetles crawl about
The shining sun is hidden in the sky
Red flowers bend their heads in awful sorrow
I come from the nigger yard of yesterday
leaping from the oppressors' hate
and the scorn of myself;
from the agony of the dark hut in the shadow
Do not stare at me from your window, lady
do not stare and wonder where I came from
is the university of hunger the wide waste.
is the pilgrimage of man the long march.
The print of hunger wanders in the land.
The green tree bends above the long forgotten.
In a bare night without comfort
stood like an infant hearing a drum:
Shadows and green grass spinning
but clutched at a world without nearing
They call here,
If I wanted
I could make pictures of night
the map of stars above the mass of water
the mass of water underneath the stars
Even in that place of final exile
among tombs, and mechanical inscriptions,
each leaf is a different green,
flower of a different kind
Child, a moment of love ago
you danced in the eye of the woman
who made you. When another moment
like the innocent wheat that made the loaf
Rain blazes in that hemisphere
of my mind