Festival Kompa Zouk Ontario 2015 – et poèmes par les haïtiens Joelle Constant, Emanyel Ejen, Suze Baron, Dominik Batravil, etc.


Une famille congolaise qui habite á Toronto...prête pour Le Festival Kompa Zouk Ontario 2015_02 août 2015

Une famille congolaise qui habite á Toronto…prête pour Le Festival Kompa Zouk Ontario 2015_02 août 2015

Translations from Creole (Kréyòl) into English by Merete Mueller:

Dominik Batravil
Depi  lapli
Pa  vini  ak  van
Siyati  chovsouri
Chaje  mi  prizon
As long as rain
marks no wind
signatures of bats
burden prison walls
. . .
Woudof Mile
Yo Ti Fanm Sezan Ki Kanpe
On ti fanm sezan
ki kanpe
kwen gran ri ak ri demirak
a onze diswa
lan yon to wob fatigue
On ti fanm sezan
ki kanpe kon yon I
anba on galeri
Li pa p’tann pesonn moun
Selman lakay li
manman-l grangou
prêt pou mouri
lit pito ret kanpe la
gwo onze diswa
lan fredi anba yon galeri
sou gran ri.
Sixteen year old girl
corner of Miracle and Main
at eleven p.m.
in a faded dress
A sixteen year old girl
stands alone
under the arcade
Not waiting for the bus
Not waiting for anybody
at home her
starving mother is
about to die
But she’d rather be standing
here with the eleven
p.m. crowd in the cold
on Main Street.

.     .     .
Suze Baron
Yo di
san kretyen
Si sete vre
Si sete vret
ala diri
ak mayi
ki ta genyen
la peyi

They say
human blood
If that were true
If that were true
my friends
how rice
and corn
would thrive
. . .
Lenour Suprice
TI BO LANMOU                                                         LITTLE LOVE KISS
(Pou A-F.L.)                                                                        (For A-F.L.)
Soley kouchan                                                             Sunlight reclines
Ti bouch ou                                                                  your little mouth
K’ap pentire                                                                 paints my eyes with
Syel grenn je-m                                                           flecks of sky
Fe dan-m siret siret                                                    My sweet mango tender
Nan dan-w                                                                   between your teeth
Fe dan-w siret siret                                                    Your sweet mango tender
Nan dan-m                                                                   between mine
Fe mwen domi                                                             I fall asleep
Nan bra-w                                                                     in your arms
Fe ou domi                                                                    You fall asleep
Anba-m                                                                          down below me
.     .     .

Merete Mueller:

Creole Poetry from Haiti:
These are poems that I translated as part of a poetry project in 2005, as a student at Naropa University.
Despite not speaking the Creole language, I was inspired to explore the poetry of Haiti by my dear friend, Dominique, who is Haitian and also a writer. I first began reading Haitian poetry in an attempt to learn about the culture of a person whom I admire and care for, and ended up realizing how little I knew about the history of Haiti, despite my own country’s (U.S.A.) influence on its ups and downs.
I made a conscious choice to translate poetry originally written in Creole, rather than French, because Creole has long been the language of Haiti’s dis-empowered majority—less than 10% of the country can read and speak French, despite the fact that it was the country’s official language until 1961. For many writers in Haiti and in the Haitian diaspora, to write in Creole is a political statement, a conscious effort to include all Haitians, and not just an educated élite.
As I dug into the Creole language, word by word, I discovered for the first time that a language is actually a worldview.
Syntax and vocabulary are not only tools for communication, but for organizing and understanding the world that surrounds us. The moment that I really understood this was when I looked up the word “poverty” in my Creole-English dictionary and found that it was also the used to describe a “hollow tin can.” The power of this image is breathtaking, and one that belongs solely to Creole.
I decided to dig up these poems and share them online when I read an email from Dominique…She wrote that amidst the heartbreak of seeing the country that she loves so much in devastation (the 2010 earthquake), and her worry for family members still living there, she had been focusing on the beauty of the country, its history and culture:
“The most beautiful sight I remember ever seeing was in Haiti. And people associate Haiti with ugly, but I see beauty in its complicated history. I see beauty in what I know of Haiti, not what people think they know or read.” I believe that it is important for us to send our appreciation to the people of Haiti, for their accomplishments and artistic vitality, as well as our aid during difficult times. Let’s remember that it’s a country of life, and not just devastation.”
.     .     .

Les Phantoms avec King Kino_Harbourfront, Toronto_02 août 2015

Les Phantoms avec King Kino_Harbourfront, Toronto_02 août 2015

Chanteurs haïtiens du grand spectacle du groupe Les Phantoms_Festival Kompa Zouk Ontario 2015

Chanteurs haïtiens du grand spectacle du groupe Les Phantoms_Festival Kompa Zouk Ontario 2015

La joyeuse foule durant le spectacle-musicale “zouk” à Harbourfront, Toronto_02 août 2015

La joyeuse foule durant le spectacle-musicale “zouk” à Harbourfront, Toronto_02 août 2015

Pwezi Wongol
Pou Ayida
Gendele m’rete
M’gade-ou Ayida
Loloj-mwen vire
Tet-ou gridap se vre
Men lannuit genle
Domi nan cheve-ou
Ayida o!
Soley galonnen
Nan tout plenn lakay
Timounn-yo manje grangou
Vant deboutonnen
Poban lannuit
Tonbe sou fey lavi
Lalin-nan tounen biva
Men nwase-a pews konpe!
Ayida o!
Kile jou-a va sevre?
Zonbi sige l’ale
Zetwal file tonbe
Zwazo leve chante
Nan veye kay Ayida
Zekle file pase
Zam rale tire
Zanset leve kanpe
Deblozay pete kay Ayida
Sometimes I stop
I look at you Ayida
My head spins
Your hair may be kinky
but the night rests
in its tangles
Ayida o!
sunlight pours onto
each pity of our home
Children feasting on hunger
bellies unscrewed
Night fills a jar
collapses into life, paper thin
daydreams become blotters but
man, darkness is thick
Ayida o!
When will daylight attack?
Zombies struggle to die
Stars streak, fall
Birds wake, sing
Watch over the house, Ayida
Lightning shoots through
weapons drawn
Ancestors rise erect
Riots shake the house, Ayida
Youn zetwal file tonbe
Fann fonten tet-mwen
Youn loray gwonde tonbe
Nan mitan zantray-mwen
Tidife boule kale nan ke-m tou wouj
Ou met koupe-m
Rache-m jete-m
Ou met boule-m
Fe chabon ak mwen
Zwazo p’ap sispann
Fe nich nan rasin-mwen
Lespwa p’ap bouke
Fleri nan ke-m
Mwen se samba
Rasin-mwen pa gen tobout
Star sharpens and falls
splits my forehead
temple to temple
Lightning burns
within my gut
Flames hatch in
my pounding heart
You can cut me off
uproot me, toss me away
You can burn me
into charcoal
Birds won’t quit
nesting in my roots
Hope doesn’t wither
but blossoms in me
I am a poet
my roots grow thick
Le youn fledize blese
A dize tapan
Li mouri tetanus
Pa gen anyen nan sa
Le youn choublak senyen
San ko-l benyen ko-l
Wanganeges rele
Sa pa di anyen
Men le youn pye flanbwayan
Fe emoraji
Tout zwazo vole gage
Nan ekziltik y’al chante
Lot bo dlo y’al kriye
Lapenn sa k’rete deye
Van pote nouvel
Nouvel gaye
Zorey Ayida Konen
Li pa tande anyen

When a ten o’clock flower is wounded
at ten o’clock sharp
It dies of tetanus
Nothing gained
When one hibiscus bleeds, its
body bathed in its own blood
hummingbirds cry out
but say nothing
Here, when one poinciania bush
hemorrhages, all the birds
scratch to leave the cockfight
In exile their singing fades
Across the water their weeping fades
Sorrow for those left behind
Wind brings and
scatters the news
Ayida’s ears ring
She hears nothing
Chak gout lannuit ki koule
Se youn tas kafe anme nan ke-nou
Nan je-nou lawouze koule
Detenn kouch poud
Nan machwa douvanjou
Malfini gagannen jou
Beke soley nan grenn je
Limye bite twa fwa
Anvan li trepase gran jounen
Tout kat libete-nou anba kod
Rev-nou mezire nan timamit
Silans-nou fele
Pasyans-nou kankannen sou nou
Men oumenm ki mezire node
Ki lonnen jipon-ou
Nan kat pwendino
Ki peze lanme nan balans-ou
Loray pete twa fwa nan patmen-ou
Le van kase kod
Ki mounn ki va koupe jaret-li
Le lanme souke jipon-l
Ki mounn ki va di-l san lizay
Le loray va bat kalinda-a
Ki mounn ki va leve danse
Each drop that sinks through the night
Is a cup of bitter coffee in our stomachs
Dew trickles from our eyes
streaks the gunpowder
that coats the jaws of dawn
Hawk strangles daylight
Pecks sunlight into pieces
Light flickers three times
Before the whole day dies
All four freedoms under arrest
Our dreams held in tin cans
Our silence breaks
Patience blisters among us
You watch for the storm
measuring out your hem
to the four directions
You weigh the ocean on scales
Thunder cracks three times in your palm
When wind breaks the law
Whose blade will gash its haunches?
When the ocean shakes its underskirt
Who will say it has no breeding?
When thunder comes beating the kalinda
Who will rise to dance?

.     .     .

Merete Mueller’s
Notes on “Wongol Poem”:
The Wongol is a form of poetry developed in Haiti during the 1960s.  Traditionally a poem of two to six lines, the Wongol conveys a brief message expressing deep discontent against the status-quo.  Wongols were meant to inspire dissent towards the government.
The Kalinda were the nocturnal dances performed before the Haitian Revolution, probably to conceal the outlawed practices of Voudun ceremonies.
The Zombie is a constant theme in Haitian literature and poetry.  Jean Zombi, aiding in the execution of all remaining French settlers after the Haitian Revolution, forced men to strip naked before having their stomachs slit open.  In Voudun, the zombie is a dead person resurrected through sacred ritual.  After being resurrected, the body has no will of its own, remaining under the control of whomever performed the ritual.  Figuratively, the zombie has come to represent an easily manipulated, apathetic person with little awareness of his or her surroundings.
In Rasin-mwen pa gen tobout, the last line of Part II, gen, which I have translated as ‘grow’, can also be translated as ‘earn’.  Tobout, ‘thick’ or ‘tough’, also means “prison cell”.  While one meaning of the line is “My roots grow thick”, Ejen is also saying, “My origins earn me a prison cell”.
.     .     .
Emanyel Ejen (born Emmanuel Eugène, in 1946) – pseudonym Manno Ejen – was forced to leave Haiti, but chose to return in 1986, after the end of the Duvalier régime.  Upon returning, he co-founded the weekly Creole newspaper Libete (Freedom) in Port-au-Prince, where he currently lives and serves on the newspaper’s editorial board.

Né à Cuba en 1946 de parents haïtiens, Emmanuel Eugène vivait à Montréal pour plus de trente ans. Il est ouvrier et poète. Sa poésie engage le meilleur de nous-mêmes : l’enfance, l’amour, l’espoir.

.     .     .

Jeanie Bogart Jourdain
Je marche pieds nus
dans les ruelles de ton coeur
tous les sentiers
me mènent à toi
là, je retrouve
mon lever de soleil
mes jeux de cache-cache
parler sans cesse
continuer d’avancer
ce que nous réserve l’avenir
le froid pénètre mon cerveau
Père Noël m’a oubliée
j’essaie de tendre la main
au-delà des frontières
pour que nos doigts
puissent se toucher
jusqu’au tressaillement
je t’envoie mon coeur
tu m’envoies le tien
ils restent suspendus
en cours de route
gelés par le froid
d’Amérique du nord
un verre de rhum
comme je les aime
un petit coup fil
au milieu de la nuit
quelques mots qui me glacent
qui me brûlent
qui ressuscitent mes sens
ma passion
mes désirs
mes rêves
mes sensations
mes vilaines pensées
une si longue distance
condamné notre cœur
de côté l’amour

.     .     .
M ap mache pye atè
toutouni nan riyèl kè w
tout santye
mennen m yon sèl kote
de pla men w
se la m jwenn
solèy leve m
sere liben m
pale pale
mache bouske pi devan
sa demen sere pou nou
se mistè
mwa d desanm
gen yon fredi k antre
jouk nan sèvo m
tonton nwèl bliye m
m lonje menm tout longè
eseye fè l janbe fwontyè
wè si pwent dwèt nou
te ka touche
pase kouran
fè san n mache
mwen voye kè m ba ou
ou voye pa w ban mwen
yo ret kwoke nan wout
fredi lamerik dinò
fè yo tounen glas
yon vè wonm
jan m renmen l la
yon ti kout fil
nan mitan lanwit
de twa ti mo
ki fè m frèt fè m cho
ki reveye dènye sans mwen
pasyon mwen
anvi mwen
rèv mwen
sansasyon mwen
panse malelve mwen
yon distans lan mitan nou
kè nou kondane
lanmou fè jeretyen
.     .     .
Joelle Constant
Ton visage
Reflet de ta beauté intérieure
Ton expression
Témoin de ton cœur d’écrivain
Tes lèvres
Porte-parole de tes amours non avouées
Tes mains
Messagers infatigables de ta tendresse
Tes yeux
Porteurs de tes désirs inassouvis
Ton corps
Aimant attirant le pôle opposé
. . .
Joelle Constant
Ton Franc Sourire
Ton franc sourire
Une source d’émotions
Qui ne peut tarir
Une invitation
Chargée de désirs
La représentation
D’une histoire à écrire
Une poignée de chansons
Entonnées en délire
L’annonce d’une saison
Qui tarde à venir
Ton franc sourire
L’image de ton nom
Que je me plais à redire

. . .
Joelle Constant
Le poète
On ne touche pas un poète
Avec des mains d’acier
On ne parle pas à un poète
Avec des mots vulgaires
On ne regarde pas un poète
Avec des yeux méchants
On ne sent pas un poète
Juste parce qu’il est présent
On n’écoute pas un poète
Avec des oreilles distraites
On ne goûte pas un poète
Comme on goûte l’homme naturel
Un poète, on le traite
Avec délicatesse
Un poète, on le touche
Avec des doigts d’artiste
En interpelant son art
Un poète, on lui parle
Avec révérence
Comme à une divinité
Un poète, on le regarde
Avec les yeux d’un peintre
Car il peint aussi ses mots
Dans sa pensée
Un poète, on le sent
Même absent
Car son œuvre le tient présent
Un poète, on l’écoute
Même si son message
Nous déroute
Un poète, on le goûte
Tout en dégustant
La saveur de ses vers
Un poète, on l’élève
Parce qu’il transcende
Et parce qu’il est
Un poète.
. . . . .
. . . . .

“Di Gud Nyuuz bout Jiizas…” / El Nacimiento de Jesús / Jezi te fèt lavil Betleyèm / Jesus’ Birth in Bethlehem: Matyu 2:1-11 / Mateo 2:1-11 / Matye 2:1-11 / Matthew 2:1-11

Jamaican Poinsettia, also known as Euphorbia punicea

Jamaican Poinsettia, also known as Euphorbia punicea

An excerpt from Matthew’s telling of the Nativity story – presented here in four languages…

.     .     .

John Wycliffe Bible, printed in 1395, written in “Middle English”:  Matthew 2:1-11

Therfor whanne Jhesus was borun in Bethleem of Juda, in the daies of king Eroude, lo! astromyenes camen fro the eest to Jerusalem, and seiden, Where is he, that is borun king of Jewis? for we han seyn his sterre in the eest, and we comen to worschipe him. But king Eroude herde, and was trublid, and al Jerusalem with hym. And he gaderide to gidre alle the prynces of prestis, and scribis of the puple, and enqueride of hem, where Crist shulde be borun. And thei seiden to hym, In Bethleem of Juda; for so it is writun bi a profete, And thou, Bethleem, the lond of Juda, art not the leest among the prynces of Juda; for of thee a duyk schal go out, that schal gouerne my puple of Israel. Thanne Eroude clepide pryueli the astromyens, and lernyde bisili of hem the tyme of the sterre that apperide to hem. And he sente hem in to Bethleem, and seide, Go ye, and axe ye bisili of the child, and whanne yee han foundun, telle ye it to me, that Y also come, and worschipe hym. And whanne thei hadden herd the kyng, thei wenten forth. And lo! the sterre, that thei siyen in the eest, wente bifore hem, til it cam, and stood aboue, where the child was. And thei siyen the sterre, and ioyeden with a ful greet ioye. And thei entriden in to the hous, and founden the child with Marie, his modir; and thei felden doun, and worschipiden him. And whanne thei hadden openyd her tresouris, thei offryden to hym yiftis, gold, encense, and myrre.

.     .     .

King James Version, 1611:  Matthew 2: 1-11

2:1 Now when Jesus was born
in Bethlehem of Judaea in the days of Herod the king,
behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem,
2:2 Saying, Where is He that is born King of the Jews?
for we have seen His Star in the east, and are come to worship Him. 2:3 When Herod the king had heard these things, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him. 2:4 And when he had gathered all the chief priests and scribes of the people together, he demanded of them where Christ should be born. 2:5 And they said unto him, In Bethlehem of Judaea: for thus it is written by the prophet, 2:6 And thou Bethlehem, in the land of Juda, art not the least among the princes of Juda: for out of thee shall come a Governor, that shall rule My people Israel. 2:7 Then Herod, when he had privily called the wise men, inquired of them diligently what time the Star appeared. 2:8 And he sent them to Bethlehem, and said, Go and search diligently for the young Child; and when ye have found Him, bring me word again, that I may come and worship Him also. 2:9 When they had heard the king, they departed; and, lo, the Star, which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the young Child was.
2:10 When they saw the Star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy. 2:11 And when they were come into the house, they saw the young Child with Mary His mother, and fell down, and worshipped Him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto Him gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh.

.     .     .

Antigua Versión de Casidoro de Reina, 1569:  Mateo 2: 1-11

2:1 Cuando Jesús nació en Belén de Judea en días del rey Herodes, vinieron del oriente a Jerusalén unos magos,
2:2 diciendo: ¿Dónde está el rey de los judíos, que ha nacido? Porque su estrella hemos visto en el oriente, y venimos a adorarle.
2:3 Oyendo esto, el rey Herodes se turbó, y toda Jerusalén con él.
2:4 Y convocados todos los principales sacerdotes, y los escribas del pueblo, les preguntó dónde había de nacer el Cristo
2:5 Ellos le dijeron: En Belén de Judea; porque así está escrito por el profeta:
2:6 Y tú, Belén, de la tierra de Judá,
No eres la más pequeña entre los príncipes de Judá;
Porque de ti saldrá un guiador,
Que apacentará a mi pueblo Israel.
2:7 Entonces Herodes, llamando en secreto a los magos, indagó de ellos diligentemente el tiempo de la aparición de la estrella;
2:8 y enviándolos a Belén, dijo: Id allá y averiguad con diligencia acerca del niño; y cuando le halléis, hacédmelo saber, para que yo también vaya y le adore.
2:9 Ellos, habiendo oído al rey, se fueron; y he aquí la estrella que habían visto en el oriente iba delante de ellos, hasta que llegando, se detuvo sobre donde estaba el niño.
2:10 Y al ver la estrella, se regocijaron con muy grande gozo.
2:11 Y al entrar en la casa, vieron al niño con su madre María, y postrándose, lo adoraron; y abriendo sus tesoros, le ofrecieron presentes: oro, incienso y mirra.

.     .     .

Bible Kréyòl ayisyen/Haitian Creole BibleMatye 2:1-11

2:1 Jezi te fèt lavil Betleyèm nan peyi Jide, sou tan wa Ewòd. Apre li te fèt, kèk nèg save ki konn etidye zetwal yo soti nan peyi solèy leve, yo rive lavil Jerizalèm.

2:2 Yo t’ap mande: Kote wa jwif ki fenk fèt la? Nou wè zetwal li parèt depi nan peyi nou an, nou vin adore li.

2:3 Lè wa Ewòd pran nouvèl la, sa te boulvèse tèt li. Sa te boulvèse tout moun lavil Jerizalèm yo tou.

2:4 Ewòd reyini tout chèf prèt yo ansanm ak direktè lalwa yo ki t’ap dirije pèp jwif la. Li mande yo: Ki kote Kris la gen pou l’ fèt?

2:5 Yo reponn li: Se lavil Betleyèm nan peyi Jide li gen pou l’ fèt. Paske, men sa pwofèt la te ekri:

2:6 Ou menm, Betleyèm, ki bati sou tè Jida a, pawòl sèten: se pa ou ki pi piti nan tout lavil peyi Jida yo. Paske, gen yon chèf ki gen pou soti lakay ou. Se li menm ki va kondi moun Izrayèl yo, pèp mwen an.

2:7 Se konsa, Ewòd fè nèg save yo vin jwenn li an kachèt. Li mande yo kilè egzakteman zetwal la te parèt.

2:8 Apre sa, li voye yo ale Betleyèm. Li di yo: Ale non! Chache konnen tout bagay sou ti pitit la. Lè n’a jwenn li, fè m’ konnen pou m’ sa kapab al adore l’, mwen menm tou.

2:9 Apre wa a te fin di yo sa, nèg save yo pati. Lè sa a, zetwal yo te wè nan peyi solèy leve a parèt devan yo ankò. Li t’ap mache devan yo. Zetwal la kontinye konsa jouk li rive sou tèt kay kote ti pitit la te ye a. Epi l’ rete.

2:10 Lè yo te wè zetwal la, yo pa t’ manke kontan.

2:11 Yo antre nan kay la, yo wè ti pitit la ansanm ak Mari, manman li. Yo mete ajenou devan l’, yo adore l’. Apre sa, yo louvri sak yo, yo ba li anpil kado: te gen lò, lansan ak lami.

.     .     .

Jamiekan Patwa (Jamaican Patois) New Testament, 2012:  Matyu 2:1-11

2 Jiizas did baan iina Betliyem, wan toun iina Judiya. Dem taim de, a Erad did a king iina Judiya. Nou, iina dem siem taim de, som waiz man fram di Iis said did kom a Jeruusilem an a aks, 2 “We di pikni de we baan di ada die, we fi kom ton king fi di Juu piipl dem? Wi si im staar iina di Iis, we shuo se im baan, an wi kom fi shuo im nof rispek.” 3 Nou wen King Erad ier dis ya, dis bada bada im ed, an it bada uol iip a piipl iina Je- ruusilem tu. 4 Erad kaal evribadi tugeda iina wan miitn — aal a di ed priis an di man dem we tiich Muoziz Laa — an im aks dem a wich paat di Krais — di king we Gad pramis, fi baan. 5 Dem ansa se, “Iina Betliyem, kaaz a dat di prafit did rait dong: 6 ‘An yu Betliyem we iina Judiya, wen yu luk pan aal di ada toun dem we a liid, yu no wot no les dan dem — yu op de mongks di tap-a-tap toun dem; kaaz a fram outa yu wan liida a-go kom we a-go protek an liid mi piipl dem we iina Izrel.’ ” 7 Den Erad sen kaal di waiz man dem fi kom kom chek im anda di kwaiyat, an fain out fram dem a wa taim dem did si di staar. 8 Im sen dem go a Betliyem an se, “Gwaan go luk fi di pikni. Luk gud gud, an wen unu fain im, kom tel mi, so mi kyan go shuo im nof rispek tu.” 9 Afta dem don lisn di king, dem lef go we. Az dem a go bout dem bizniz so, no di sed staar we dem did si iina di Iis said kom bak agen! It galang infronta dem til it riich wich paat di pikni did de, an a uova de-so it tap. 10 Wen dem did si di staar agen dem glad-bag bos! 11 Dem kom iina di ous an si di pikni wid im mada, Mieri, an dem go dong pan dem nii an priez im. Dem tek out di prezent we dem did bring, an gi di pikni — guol, frang- kinsens an mor.

.     .     .     .     .

“Bird-songs accompany our laughter”: poems of love and desire

Yellow Hibiscus

Suzanne Dracius (born 1951, Martinique)

Women’s Wicked Desires”


Women too revel in riding

Thighs spread apart

Seated astride shamelessly

As they say in polite language…

À la Andromaque

That’s why you won’t talk about it

That’s how you will be happy to

Do all of these things you are saying

Promptly at dawn

All of these honeyed things

Forbidden in theory

As they say

Women’s wicked desires

What can befall us

By doing all that you are asking for

If we do them for fun

Since today’s strong woman

Won’t be abused for it

I do hope you can grasp

How I defy the kind of feminine prudishness

That wants to hold me back

When I dare perform

The saucy somersaults you ask

Even though I know I shouldn’t

Since I’m a well-bred young lady

As they say

Now I am the wicked one

And I am asking you to do all these juicy things

And sing my song in tune with me

As they say

A woman’s wicked desires.

Do I really need to leave my senses

For us to enjoy some pleasure

The wild way

With dazzling unbridled wantonness

With cuddling which was not done openly

The snuggling that we see today

Wickedly as they say

With a frenzy to swoon

To women it is pleasure

To ride astride

As in the frescoes of Pompeii

Thighs wildly spread apart

Soaking your potent organ

Just like on Rue d’Enfer in Saint-Pierre

Doing all these forbidden things

Truly paradisiacal

Women’s wicked desires

To put myself in all the positions you ask

In mystical cries

Ho misticri, krik krak monkey!

To offer myself in all these forbidden positions

And krik and krak

And krik krak

So the audience doesn’t fall asleep



Oh Lord! Dear, dear, dear Lafilo!

I’m taking to flying

I’m stepping out

Running like a maroon

To get myself off

Epicurean Caribbean style.


Translation from the Creole: Hanétha Vété-Congolo

. . .

Here is the original poem – in Creole:


Suzanne Dracius

Fantasm Fanm”


Pou fanm tou sé bèl plézi

Di monté adada osi

An mannyè kal…


À la Romaine, à l’Andromaque”

Sé pousa ou pé di hak

Sé konsa ou ké kontan

Fè tout sé bagay ou ka di

O pipiri

Tout sé bagay ki intèwdi

An téyori

Kon yo ka di

An fantasm fanm

Sa ki pé rivé nou davré

Di fè tousa ou ka mandé

A sipozé ki nou ka fèy

Dépi nou fè sa épi

Ti bren foli

Puis fanm jodi

Pé ké modi

Mwen ka espéré kou pé konpwann

Sa ki sé kalté pidè fanm

Lè man noz fè

Sa ou ka di-a

mèm si man sav

Ki fo pa fèy

An jèntifi

De bonnfanmi

Kon yo ka di

Atjolman sé mwen ki bandi

Ek sé mwen ké mandé-w li

An mélodi

An narmoni

Kon yo ka di

An fantasm fanm

Es fok tèt an mwen pati

Pou nou pwan titak plézi

An vakabonnajri

Kon yo ka di

An féyéri

An barbari

Pichonnaj ki pa té ka fèt an gran lari

Dousinaj ki nou ka vwè jodi

An pitènri

Kon yo ka di

An frénézi

An malkadi

Pou an fanm sé bèl plézi

Di monté adada osi

Kon sou lérwin Ponpéyi

Alabodaj an bèl péyi

À l’Andromaque, à la Romaine”

Pa an sèl wozé pijé grènn

An mannyè pakoté Senpyè

An mannyè a lari Lanfè

Fè tout sé bagay intèrwdi

An paradi

Fantasm fanm

Fè tout sé bagay man ka di

An mistik kri

Yé mistikri

Fè krik krak

Kon yo ka di

Yé krak yé kri

An filozofi

Pou lakou pa domi

An poyézi

An malapri

An malfini


Lavol an pri

Épi kouri

Caribéenne épicurie –

. . .

Obediah Michael Smith(born 1954, Bahamas)

Bee Mad” (for L.M.M.)


how can you withhold from me

where your thighs meet

like honey in the crotch of a tree

and not expect me to buzz as angrily as a bee.

. . .

Chapel Steeple” (for M.B.)


I’ve had my head between her legs,

where her thighs meet

bushy place to ramble wild,

berries growing by the spring I make flow

in this I wash my face to wake myself

face in the Bible she opens to let me read

to convert me to true love, to the truth of love,

to let me taste the fruit of love.

Love is Grand 1_Image from Saddi Khalid PhotoLove is Grand 2Love is Grand 3

Ken Forde



In this tome

of silence,

I will enter

your quietude;

have you come

with me

to a place

of red and yellow bloomings,

humming birds

their feathered flash

tongued nectar

sweet and fragrant.

With you

I will leap

across the distance

to this place

of caimate purples

and sapodilla browns,

our skins caressed

by warm fingered sun.

Bird-songs accompany

our laughter.

. . .

Colin Robinson

Loosening my Tongue” (for Reggie)


is an old

metaphor is a young

man you

are an old

metaphor loosening my tongue

flicks to the back of a youthened


a second set of teeth




flies hungry

watering for a metaphor that I can swallow whole

that will go


that will last a whole poem

something hard and round and risky

musky ancient hairy language

reaches back

coughing up cotton

congealed in

big blue balls

of speech

old stiffened yellow rubber socks

policy       proposal       political       position       posture

place sex into my mouth again

unsheathe, untangle old poetry

poke at my prostate

full of old fragments

waiting for your big hands

to rub it      soothe

a gasping warm white

stanza flows between my legs

into a purposeful brown



envelopes my tongue


man you

are a

metaphor on the tip of my tongue

making my poems come

whole again

. . .

The above poems are © their respective authors:

Suzanne Dracius: “Fantasm Fanm”

Obediah Michael Smith: “Bee Mad”, “Chapel Steeple”

Ken Forde: “Nectar”

Colin Robinson: “Loosening my Tongue”

.     .     .     .     .

Luke 2: 1-14: “Di Gud Nyuuz bout Jiizas”: El nacimiento de Jesús en la prosa poética de La Biblia / Jesus’ birth in the poetic prose of Renaissance Spanish and English Bibles + Wycliffe(1395), Haitian Creole and Jamaican Patois

ZP_A toy Nativity scene with a coconut shell as the stable, from Haiti. Jwaye Noel means Merry Christmas in Haitian Creole._Jwaye Nwel dice Feliz Navidad en el idioma criollo haitiano.

ZP_A toy Nativity scene with a coconut shell as the stable, from Haiti. Jwaye Noel means Merry Christmas in Haitian Creole._Jwaye Nwel dice Feliz Navidad en el idioma criollo haitiano.

Un fino ejemplo de la prosa poética de La Biblia en su Antigua Versión de Casidoro de Reina (1569) con revisiones por Cipriano de Valera (1602):

Luca 2: 1-14:

“ Aconteció en aquellos días que salió un edicto de parte de César Augusto, para levantar un censo de todo el mundo habitado. Este primer censo se realizó mientras Cirenio era gobernador de Siria. Todos iban para inscribirse en el censo, cada uno a su ciudad. Entonces José también subió desde Galilea, de la ciudad de Nazaret, a Judea, a la ciudad de David que se llama Belén, porque él era de la casa y de la familia de David, para inscribirse con María, su esposa, quien estaba encinta. Aconteció que, mientras ellos estaban allí, se cumplieron los días de su alumbramiento, y dio a luz a su hijo primogénito. Le envolvió en pañales, y le acostó en un pesebre, porque no había lugar para ellos en el mesón. Había pastores en aquella región, que velaban y guardaban las vigilias de la noche sobre su rebaño. Y un ángel del Señor se presentó ante ellos, y la gloria del Señor los rodeó de resplandor; y temieron con gran temor. Pero el ángel les dijo: No temáis, porque he aquí os doy buenas nuevas de gran gozo, que será para todo el pueblo: que hoy, en la ciudad de David, os ha nacido un Salvador, que es Cristo el Señor. Y esto os servirá de señal: Hallaréis al niño envuelto en pañales y acostado en un pesebre.

De repente apareció con el ángel una multitud de las huestes celestiales, que alababan a Dios y decían: ¡Gloria a Dios en las alturas, y en la tierra paz entre los hombres de buena voluntad! ”

.     .     .

Y en el inglés del tiempo de Shakespeare, de la versión del rey Jacobo (1611):

A fine example of the poetic prose of The King James Version (1611) of The Bible:

Luke 2: 1-14:

“And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.  And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.  And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.  And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem;  because he was of the house and lineage of David:  to be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.  And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.  And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger;  because there was no room for them in the inn.  And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.  And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them:  and they were sore afraid.  And the angel said unto them: Fear not, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.  For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.  And this shall be a sign unto you;  Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying:  Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and good will toward men.”

.     .     .

Y en el ‘inglés medio’de dos siglos antes de la versión del rey Jacobo, de la Biblia de John Wycliffe (1395):

And, from The Wycliffe Bible, two centuries earlier (1395) – in ‘Middle English’:

Luke 2: 1-14:

“ And it was don in tho daies, a maundement wente out fro the emperour August, that al the world schulde be discryued.  This firste discryuyng was maad of Cyryn, iustice of Sirie.  And alle men wenten to make professioun, ech in to his owne citee.  And Joseph wente vp fro Galilee, fro the citee Nazareth, in to Judee, in to a citee of Dauid, that is clepid Bethleem, for that he was of the hous and of the meyne of Dauid, that he schulde knouleche with Marie, his wijf, that was weddid to hym, and was greet with child. And it was don, while thei weren there, the daies weren fulfillid, that sche schulde bere child.  And sche bare hir first borun sone, and wlappide hym in clothis, and leide hym in a cratche, for ther was no place to hym in no chaumbir. And scheepherdis weren in the same cuntre, wakynge and kepynge the watchis of the nyyt on her flok.  And lo! the aungel of the Lord stood bisidis hem, and the cleernesse of God schinede aboute hem; and thei dredden with greet drede.  And the aungel seide to hem, Nyle ye drede; for lo! Y preche to you a greet ioye, that schal be to al puple.  For a sauyoure is borun to dai to you, that is Crist the Lord, in the citee of Dauid. And this is a tokene to you; ye schulen fynde a yong child wlappid in clothis, and leid in a cratche.

And sudenli ther was maad with the aungel a multitude of heuenli knyythod, heriynge God, and seiynge, Glorie be in the hiyeste thingis to God, and in erthe pees be to men of good wille. “

.     .     .

En Kréyòl ayisyen / In Haitian Creole / en el idioma de criollo haitiano:

Lik 2: 1-14:

Lè sa a, Seza Ogis te bay lòd pou yo te konte dènye moun ki nan peyi l’ap gouvènen yo.

Premye travay sa a te fèt nan tan Kireniyis t’ap kòmande nan peyi yo rele Siri a.

Tout moun te al fè pran non yo nan lavil kote fanmi yo te soti.

Jozèf te rete nan peyi Galile, nan yon bouk yo rele Nazarèt. Men, paske li te moun nan fanmi ak ras David, li moute, li ale nan Jide, nan lavil David yo rele Betleyèm lan.

Jozèf tapral fè yo pran non l’ ansanm ak non Mari, fiyanse li, ki te ansent.

Antan yo te la, jou pou Mari te akouche a rive.

Li fè premye pitit li a, yon ti gason. Mari vlope pitit la nan kouchèt, li mete l’ kouche nan yon kay kote yo bay bèt manje, paske pa t’ gen plas pou yo nan lotèl la.

Nan menm zòn sa a, te gen gadò mouton ki t’ap pase nwit la deyò ap veye mouton yo.

Lè sa a, yon zanj Bondye parèt devan yo, bèl limyè Bondye a klere tout kote yo te ye a. Yo te pè anpil.

Men zanj lan di yo konsa: Pa pè. N’ap anonse nou yon bon nouvèl ki pral fè tout pèp la kontan anpil.

Jòdi a, nan lavil David la, nou gen yon Sovè ki fenk fèt: se Kris la, Seyè a.

Men remak ki va fè nou rekonèt li: n’a jwenn yon tibebe vlope nan kouchèt, kouche nan yon kay kote yo bay bèt manje.

Menm lè a, yon foul lòt zanj nan syèl la vin jwenn zanj lan; yo t’ap fè lwanj Bondye, yo t’ap di konsa:

Lwanj pou Bondye anwo nan syèl la, kè poze sou latè pou tout moun li renmen.

.     .     .

And…in Jamaican Patois:

Luuk 2: 1-14:

1 Iina dem die de, di Ruoman ruula, Siiza Agostos, gi aada fi rait dong di niem a evribadi iina im kindom.  2 (Dis a di fos taim niem a rait dong sins di taim wen Kiriniyos did a ruul uova Siriya.)  3 Aal im piipl dem did afi go a di toun we dem baan fi get dem niem rait dong, so di govament kyan taks dem.

4 So kaaz Juozif did kom fram Dievid fambili an Dievid did baan iina Judiya, im did afi lef fram Nazaret iina Gyalalii an go a Betliyem iina Judiya.  5 Juozif go de wid Mieri fi get dem niem rait dong. Di tuu a dem did ingiej fi marid dem wan aneda an shi did av biebi iina beli.  6 Wen dem de de, Mieri tek iin fi av biebi,  7 an shi av ar fos pikni, wan bwai. Shi rap im op iina biebi blangkit an put im iina di baks we di animal dem nyam outa, kaaz no spies neva iina di ges ous fi dem.

8 Da nait de, som shepad did a luk aafa dem shiip iina wan fiil, nier we Mieri dem did de.  9 Wan a di Laad ienjel dem kom tu di shepad dem. Wan brait brait lait fram Gad kova dem an it mek dem fraitn so til.  10 So di ienjel tel dem se, “No fried! Mi av gud nyuuz fi unu. Nyuuz we ago mek evribadi api.  11 Di wan we ago siev unu baan tide iina di toun we Dievid kom fram. Im a Krais, di Laad.  12 Mi ago tel unu wa unu ago si, so wen unu si dat unu ago nuo se a im. Unu ago si wan biebi rap op iina wan biebi blangkit an a lidong iina di baks we di animal dem nyam outa.”

13 Aal av a sodn uol iip a ienjel fram evn, jain im. Dem did a priez di Laad an se,  14 “Priez Gad we de a evn, an piis fi evribadi we Gad api wid.”

.     .     .     .     .

Hector Poullet: “Mi yo doubout an péyi-la…” / “Standing tall in our country…”

Hector Poullet (né/born 1938)

(Écrivain noir, créoliste, de La Guadeloupe

/ Black Creole-language writer, Guadeloupe)


E mi sé ti moun péyi-la

Mi yo

Mi yo doubout an péyi-la

An mitan lanmé

An mitan soley

Yo la

Po nwè

Po jonn

Po rouj

Po shapé

Po blan

Nou byen fouté pa mal !

Nou sa sé zenfan péyi-la

Sé swé a yo ki ka rozé péyi-la


Voici les enfants du pays,     Here are the children of the country,

Les voici,                                 Here they are,

Les voici érigés au pays,               Standing tall in our country,

Au coeur même de la mer,       With hearts as much of the sea as sun.

Au coeur même du soleil.

Ils sont là                                      There they are:  the

Peaux noires                            Black skins, yellows,

Peaux jaunes                          Red skins and shedded skins,

Peaux rouges                           White skins, too.

Peaux échappées et

Peaux blanches

Quelle importance !                    And it’s so important –

Ce sont, nous le savons,               That they are – and we know it –

Les fils de ce pays;                          The children of this country;

Leur sueur nourrit la terre de ce pays!      Their sweat nourishes this earth!


Haitian Creole: Five Poets

Eff Yeah Vodou

Alexander Akao   (Aleksann Akao)

Zombies Arise

Since I was a kid they’ve been choking me

They grab me, they stuff me into a barrel

Too small for me

They stuff me into a dart-gun

They squash me like a mango

They squash me like a banana

They refuse to let me open my mouth

To speak my mind

“You got nothing to say, you’re a kid !”

But when I’m walking I’m looking around

I see everyone at my side

Is in the same fix as me

They’re burying us all alive

They’re stuffing us in the earth

Like slaves locked up in a canefield

When it’s not a horsewhip, papa,

Making us walk a straight line

It’s a tonton macoute* gun

That gestapoes or SDs ** us

But this morning I wake up

With salt on my tongue

Nothing’s gonna stop me from speaking out !


tonton macoute  –  paramilitary force,

including Duvalier bodyguards, involved in

organized crime;  terrorized the Haitian

people, committing many human-rights abuses

**  SD – Service d’Information:

Haiti president/dictator Jean-Claude Duvalier’s secret police


Zonbi Leve

Depi m’piti y’ape toufe mwen

Yo pran-m, yo foure-m nan yon barik

Ki twò piti pou mwen

Yo foure-m nan sabakann

Yo toufe-m tankou mango

Yo toufe-m tankou bannann

Yo refize kite-m ouvri bouch mwen

Pou m’eksprime sa mwen panse

“Ou pa gen lapawòl, se timoun ou ye”

Men lè m’mache m’al gade

Mwen wè se tout moun ki sou kote-m

Ki nan menm eta sa-a avè-m

Yo antere-n tou vivan

Yo toufe-n nan tè-a

Tankou esklav te fèmen nan jaden kann

Lè se pa rigwaz papa

Pou fè-m mache SS

Se fizi tonton makout

K’ap gestapo, k’ap SD nou

Men maten-an mwen leve

Ak sèl sou lang mwen

Pa gen anyen ki ka anpeche-m pale !


ZP_Wilson Bigaud_ZonbiZP_Wilson Bigaud_”Zonbi”

Suze Baron  (Siz Bawon)

They say

They say

human blood

enriches the soil

If it were so

if it were so

my friends

rice millet and corn

would be plenty

in Haiti.


Yo di


Yo di

san kretyen



Si sete vre

Si sete vre


ala diri


ak mayi

ki ta genyen

lan peyi

d’ Ayiti.


Georges Castera (Jòj Kastra), born 1936


Let’s go see blood flow,


For once in a lifetime,

it’s not people’s blood spilling,

for once in the street

it’s not animal’s blood flowing,

let’s go see blood flow,


the sun is setting.



An n’al gade san koule,


pou yon fwa nan lavi,

se pa san moun k’ap koule,

pou yon fwa nan lari

se pa san bèt k’ap koule,

an n’al gade san koule,


se solèy ki pral kouche.


Felix Morisseau-Leroy  (Feliks Moriso-Lewa), 1913-1998


When I die, make me a beautiful wake

I’m going neither to paradise nor to hell

Don’t let a priest speak Latin to my head

When I die, bury me in the yard

Gather all my friends, make a big feast

Don’t go past the church with my corpse

When I die, everyone should really get happy

Laugh, sing, dance, tell jokes

Don’t bawl, yell into my ear

I won’t be completely done when I’m dead

All the places where there were great bashes,

Where people are free – they’ll remember me.


Lè m’mouri, fè bèl vèy pou mwen

M’pa pral ni nan paradi ni nan lanfè

Pinga pè pale laten nan tèt mwen.

Lè m’mouri, antere mwen nan lakou-a

Rasanble tout zanmi-m fè bèl fèt

Pinga pase legliz ak kadav mwen

Lè m’mouri, se pou tout moun byen ge

Ri, chante, danse, bay blag

Pinga kriye, rele nan zòrèy mwen

Lè m’mouri, m’pa p’fin ale nèt

tout kote k’ganyen bèl banbòch

Kote nèg lib, fò yo nonmen non mwen.


Nounous  (Lenous Surprice), born 1976

If you want

Every time I see you

You always have something

That tickles the crotch of my pants…

If it’s not your breasts

Making  “sparks fly”

Before my eyes

It’s your gilded pout

Sticking its tongue out to tease me…

If you want

One day

I can take my time

And sing a mass

Into your daybreak

Every time I cross your path

It seems you purposely

Get my  “sleeping cat”,

My  “wild horse”,  stirred up…

When your hip-swing

Isn’t calling out:  “sweets are coming”

To my tray of goodies

It’s your blesséd bonbons

Making my mouth of rainbows


One day

If you want

I’ll display the musical score

Of my body

On the naked piano of yours.

ZP_Wilson Bigaud_Femmes aux fleurs jaunesZP_Wilson Bigaud_”Femmes aux fleurs jaunes”


Si W-Vle

Chak fwa mwen wè-w

Toujou gen youn bagay

Ki pou ap satiyèt gason kanson-m…

Lè se pa tet-w

K’ap fè  “tidifevole”

Douvan je-m

Se dyòl dore-w

K’ap fè jwisans mwen filalang…

Si w-vle

Youn jou

M’ka pran tan-m

Pou m’chante lamès

Nan douvanjou-w.

Chak fwa m’kwaze-w

Ou ta di w-fè espre

Pou w-reveye “lechakidò”

Chwal bosal mwen…

Lè se pa deranchman-w

K’ap rele “ladouskivyen”

Pou machann kenèp mwen

Se bonbon beni-w

K’ap fè bouch lakansyèl mwen

Kouri dlo…

Youn jou

Si w-vle

M’a layite nòt mizik

Kò pa-m

Sou pyano toutouni kò pa-w.


Reprinted from:

Open Gate:  an Anthology of Haitian Creole Poetry,

edited by Paul Laraque and Jack Hirschman, 2001.

Translations:  Jack Hirschman and Boadiba