Стихотворения и поэмы

And the black crowd laughed till their sides were sore

At the baboon butler in the agate door,

And the well-known tunes of the parrot band

That trilled on the bushes of that magic land.

A troupe of skull-faced witch-men came

With pomposity.

Through the agate doorway in suits of flame,

Yea, long-tailed coats with a gold-leaf crust

And hats that were covered with diamond-dust.

And the crowd in the court gave a whoop and a call

And danced the juba from wall to wall.

But the witch-men suddenly stilled the throng

With a great deliberation & ghostliness.

With a stern cold glare, and a stern old song: --

"Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you." ...

Just then from the doorway, as fat as shotes,

With overwhelming assurance, good cheer, and pomp.

Came the cake-walk princes in their long red coats,

Canes with a brilliant lacquer shine,

And tall silk hats that were red as wine.

And they pranced with their butterfly partners there,

With growing speed and sharply marked dance-rhythm

Coal-black maidens with pearls in their hair,

Knee-skirts trimmed with the jassamine sweet,

And bells on their ankles and little black-feet.

And the couples railed at the chant and the frown

Of the witch-men lean, and laughed them down.

(O rare was the revel, and well worth while

That made those glowering witch-men smile.)

The cake-walk royalty then began

To walk for a cake that was tall as a man

To the tune of "Boomlay, boomlay, BOOM,"

While the witch-men laughed, with a sinister air,

With a touch of negro dialect, and as rapidly as possible toward the end.

And sang with the scalawags prancing there: --

"Walk with care, walk with care,

Or Mumbo-Jumbo, God of the Congo,

And all the other

Gods of the Congo,

Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you.

Beware, beware, walk with care,

Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom.

Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom.

Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom.

Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay,

BOOM."

Oh rare was the revel, and well worth while

Slow philosophic calm.

That made those glowering witch-men smile.

III. THE HOPE OF THEIR RELIGION

A good old negro in the slums of the town

Heavy bass. With a literal imitation of camp-meeting racket, and trance.

Preached at a sister for her velvet gown.

Howled at a brother for his low-down ways,

His prowling, guzzling, sneak-thief days.

Beat on the Bible till he wore it out

Starting the jubilee revival shout.

And some had visions, as they stood on chairs,

And sang of Jacob, and the golden stairs,

And they all repented, a thousand strong

From their stupor and savagery and sin and wrong

And slammed with their hymn books till they shook the room

With "glory, glory, glory,"

And "Boom, boom, BOOM."

THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK,

Exactly as in the first section. Begin with terror and power, end with joy.

CUTTING THROUGH THE FOREST WITH A GOLDEN TRACK.

And the gray sky opened like a new-rent veil

And showed the Apostles with their coats of mail.

In bright white steel they were seated round

And their fire-eyes watched where the Congo wound.

And the twelve Apostles, from their thrones on high

Thrilled all the forest with their heavenly cry: --

"Mumbo-Jumbo will die in the jungle;

Sung to the tune of "Hark, ten thousand harps and voices."

Never again will he hoo-doo you,

Never again will he hoo-doo you."

Then along that river, a thousand miles

With growing deliberation and joy.

The vine-snared trees fell down in files.

Pioneer angels cleared the way

For a Congo paradise, for babes at play,

For sacred capitals, for temples clean.

Gone were the skull-faced witch-men lean.

There, where the wild ghost-gods had wailed

In a rather high key -- as delicately as possible.

A million boats of the angels sailed

With oars of silver, and prows of blue

And silken pennants that the sun shone through.

'Twas a land transfigured, 'twas a new creation.

Oh, a singing wind swept the negro nation

And on through the backwoods clearing flew: --

"Mumbo-Jumbo is dead in the jungle.

To the tune of "Hark, ten thousand harps and voices."

Never again will he hoo-doo you.

Never again will he hoo-doo you.

Redeemed were the forests, the beasts and the men,

And only the vulture dared again

By the far, lone mountains of the moon

To cry, in the silence, the Congo tune: --

"Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you,

Dying down into a penetrating, terrified whisper.

"Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you.

Mumbo ... Jumbo ... will ... hoo-doo ... you."

КОНГО (перевод Елены Евич)

(Исследование негритянской расы)

I

Их основной инстинкт

( Глубоким раскатистым басом )

Жирные туши учинили глум,

Боссы черных боровов, в кабаке ночью,

Виснут, шатаются, бьют в пустые бочки,

Бьют в пустые бочки,

Бьют по днищам мётлами, ножками от тумб,

Громко, что есть мочи,

Бум, бум, БУМ,

Шелковым зонтиком, ножками от тумб,

Бумлэй, бумлэй, бумлэй, БУМ.

( Неторопливо. Торжественным песнопением )

Там было мне моленье, там было мне виденье.

И я не мог избегнуть их пьяного веселья.

И Я УВИДЕЛ КОНГО, ПОЛЗШЕЕ СКВОЗЬ ЧЕРНЬ,

ДЖУНГЛИ РАЗРЕЗАЛА ЗОЛОТАЯ ТЕНЬ.

И там на тысячи миль

Вдоль речных плит

В пляске людоеды отбивали ритм.

Я услышал удар берцовой костью в гонг

И алчущий крови сына вопль и стон.