Poet in exile

Poet in exile

Poet in exile

I am a poet in exile searching
For a new breath.
In the cold streets of my dreams
I meet the spirit of the revolution’s exiles
I meet the word-hyenas
I meet a fine rain of dying October
I meet Sango words of lost vertigo
I meet a fire crouching by the shadow of time
I meet a dead beauty of Angola who reaches out to me. 

I am a poet in exile searching
For a new breath
In the arms of the dead beauty of Abyssinia.
Hanging from her colourless hair
I travel on the back of a bitter comet
Ngondo Moyula my ancestor
Ngondo Moyula the past in movement
Ngondo Moyula brother in destiny of the Caribbean Indians
May your murmur be the lullaby for my night with the dead
beauty of Niamey. 

I am a poet in exile searching
For a new breath.
In the giant flames of a bush fire
The firefly-woman dances, her breasts free.
I plunge into the dark ravines of Amani
In search of the stone of passion
To break the lament of solitude.
My lips touch the lukewarm shoulder of the dead beauty of
Namibia
I abandon my body to pleasures of the night.

I am a poet in exile searching
For a new breath.
In the fleeting night
I make love with the dead beauty of Tanzania.
In passing I make her a gift of my petrified soul
I offer her my dreams, my hopes, my visions of the night
I murmur to her words stolen from the speechless Soko
I give her the keys of time, the padlock of History.
The day is breaking; my lifeless body rests on a grave. 

I am a poet in exile searching
For a new breath.
A parrot from paradise nests in my skull
The flicker from the Isle of Madagascar is joyful
He takes wing to spread the news of my death
Ngondo Moyula my ancestor
I inherited from you the fatal privilege of a night of Love
Give me a new breath to understand eternity.