Poema "Voz de las Lagrimas" del libro Voz de la Nostalgia

Poema del libro "Voz de la Nostalgia" de Maria Aduke Alabi

VOZ DE LAS LÁGRIMAS

Voz de las lágrimas las que mis ojos oyeron.
Sufrir latente, tártaro sangriento,
que lleno mi huerto de penas ajenas,
que trajo a mi puerto caricias complejas.

Víctima de la hueste infernal,
de las derrotas que con titeo de mi se apoderaron;
y de mi cuerpo al que como avispero
con loca jarana saborearon muchos cuerpos.

Este furor que hace crispar mi piel,
ese calor que nunca ha llegado a mí;
calor que espero. Amor que extraño.
Espera zozobrante. Sed insaciable.
Corazón árido y esterilizado.

Voz de las lágrimas las que mis ojos oyeron
buscando el amor sin encontrarlo;
inmersa en esperanza.
Inmerecida fortuna la que espero
y por la que desespero a veces.

Yo, vate en mi tálamo;
conquisto, abrumo, seduzco.
No bulle mi alma porque no ha encontrado su par,
y mi luz postrera despide apenas
destellos temblorosos.

Escucha el poema en YouTube https://youtu.be/7TEy5QPp9rE

Para mas informacion sobre el libro visita: https://quisqueyanapress.com/voz-de-la-nostalgia-2

Para comprar el libro visitanos en Amazon: https://amzn.to/3eVEcBc

The "N" Word (Poem)

THE "N" WORD  Don't call me that"

This word, the N word,

you don’t call me that.

I’m black, yeah, 

and God knows I’m proud to be

in love with my dark skin,

my kinky hair, my stylish style.

Don’t slave me with your slang.

The N word … It’s not a color.

The N word… It’s not a race.

You don’t use it,

You don’t call me by this name.

It brings a past of pain and hate

brings the handcuff, brings the chains,

The lashes and the shame.

Brings the suffer from being captured

and be forced to be a slave.

I’m black, yeah, very black, yeah

It’s the color of my roots,

it’s the color of my land.

It’s the color of my hair.

I’m black, yeah, very black, yeah.

A free black, that’s what I Am…

Don’t try wound me with this word.

The N word,

Only, If the color of your skin

Is comparable with me

Show me affection,

and empower me, therefore.

Is like a pat on my back

That warmth my core.

The N word

You don’t call me that.

This is a past that I want to forget. (It still hurts).

This is a pain that my soul, still carries on. (carry on)

it’s the pain of being ripped from your land

to a foreign land to be a slaved.

It is the remembrance of the inhumane.

It’s the negation of the freedom

because of the color of your face.

The exasperation of losing and no crying.

The frustration of seeing and no saying.

See the whippings, see the harsh, see the rapes,

the brutalities, the floggings, and despairs.

Living in fear, with the fear of misbehaving.

With the limitation of “knowing your place”.

It is a curse.

It’s the transfer from happiness to sorrow to shame.

I’m black, yeah, very black, yeah

It’s the color of my roots,

it’s the color of my land.

It’s the color of my hair.

I’m black, yeah, a proud black, yeah.

I’m a free man, still fighting to be free.

I’m a human being, still waiting to be treated.

Don’t slave me with your word

I still, will fight for it.

by: Maria Aduke Alabi

www.mariaadukealabi.com

Visit: https://vocal.media/poets/the-n-word
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