Стихотворения и поэмы - [5]

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Весна пришла насовсем…

Весна пришла насовсем…» –

Китайский пропел Соловей.

THE CONGO

(A Study of the Negro Race)

I. THEIR BASIC SAVAGERY

Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room,

Barrel-house kings, with feet unstable,

Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table,

A deep rolling bass.

Pounded on the table,

Beat an empty barrel with the handle of a broom,

Hard as they were able,

Boom, boom, BOOM,

With a silk umbrella and the handle of a broom,

Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM.

THEN I had religion, THEN I had a vision.

I could not turn from their revel in derision.

THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK,

More deliberate. Solemnly chanted.

CUTTING THROUGH THE FOREST WITH A GOLDEN TRACK.

Then along that riverbank

A thousand miles

Tattooed cannibals danced in files;

Then I heard the boom of the blood-lust song

And a thigh-bone beating on a tin-pan gong.

A rapidly piling climax of speed & racket.

And "BLOOD" screamed the whistles and the fifes of the warriors,

"BLOOD" screamed the skull-faced, lean witch-doctors,

"Whirl ye the deadly voo-doo rattle,

Harry the uplands,

Steal all the cattle,

Rattle-rattle, rattle-rattle,

Bing.

Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM,"

A roaring, epic, rag-time tune

With a philosophic pause.

From the mouth of the Congo

To the Mountains of the Moon.

Death is an Elephant,

Torch-eyed and horrible,

Shrilly and with a heavily accented metre.

Foam-flanked and terrible.

BOOM, steal the pygmies,

BOOM, kill the Arabs,

BOOM, kill the white men,

HOO, HOO, HOO.

Listen to the yell of Leopold's ghost

Like the wind in the chimney.

Burning in Hell for his hand-maimed host.

Hear how the demons chuckle and yell

Cutting his hands off, down in Hell.

Listen to the creepy proclamation,

Blown through the lairs of the forest-nation,

Blown past the white-ants' hill of clay,

Blown past the marsh where the butterflies play: --

"Be careful what you do,

Or Mumbo-Jumbo, God of the Congo,

All the "O" sounds very golden. Heavy accents very heavy. Light accents very light. Last line whispered.

And all of the other

Gods of the Congo,

Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you,

Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you,

Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you."

II. THEIR IRREPRESSIBLE HIGH SPIRITS

Wild crap-shooters with a whoop and a call

Rather shrill and high.

Danced the juba in their gambling-hall

And laughed fit to kill, and shook the town,

And guyed the policemen and laughed them down

With a boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM.

THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK,

Read exactly as in first section.

CUTTING THROUGH THE FOREST WITH A GOLDEN TRACK.

A negro fairyland swung into view,

Lay emphasis on the delicate ideas. Keep as light-footed as possible.

A minstrel river

Where dreams come true.

The ebony palace soared on high

Through the blossoming trees to the evening sky.

The inlaid porches and casements shone

With gold and ivory and elephant-bone.

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,