for Derek Walcott
Here I am to greet you all with the clinking of wineglasses.
Reeking with sweat as I gabble of memories with a sigh,
listen I visualize my griotº clumping about in spooky places,
fumbling with clues to interpret the mosaic of the sky,
perhaps to gouge out with all his might the infuriating lie
lurking with a trap long spread out under the guise of a tree,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem