THE POETRY OF PRE-LITERATE PEOPLES
An unpublished anthology gathered by Kenneth Rexroth (ca. 1975)
Part 4: Africa
Akan (Ghana)
Pygmy
Dama
Bushman
Zulu
Sotho
Ba Thonga
Yoruba
Swazi
Ngoni
Nyanja
Bambara-Fula
Ba-Ronga
Lamba
Chopi
Somali
Akan (Ghana)
[1]
How cold and empty the room.
How sad the deserted house.
Oh how melancholy is an empty room.
I roam around looking out
For my Kusi Apea of Adanse.
He went out for adventure
Without warning anyone!
The young vagabond.
It is he I am look for
As I roam around.
[2]
I sleep long and soundly.
Suddenly the door creaks.
I open my eyes confused,
And find my love standing by.
Mother Adu, I am dying.
Adu, kinsman of Odurowa,
What matters death to me?
[3]
If you have any misdeeds,
If you have any misdeeds,
If you have any misdeeds,
You are doomed by them.
If you have any misdeeds,
Those misdeeds of yours
Have finished you.
Oh pullet!
When I scratch the earth
Behind my house,
I am ordered to be caught for sale.
I have not broken an earthen pot,
Far less smash the aluminum pot.
Yet I am to be caught and sold away.
[4]
It has been raining and raining.
It has been raining and raining.
I go out to leave my footprints,
Beyond the footprints of my love.
All footprints are not alike.
I go out to leave my footprints,
And find the footprints of my love.
He has two loves.
He has two loves.
I go to see him off,
I meet the other woman.
I cannot go back:
I burst into tears.
[5]
A Dirge
Woman of wealth that knew no poverty
But on Akwasi’s last Sunday.
Obiragowaa, beautiful and rich,
But on Akwasi’s last Sunday.
Oh, that Sunday! Akwasi, my father,
Grand daughter of wealth,
Sunday is for me a memorable day.
Be quick and let us depart; no place is safe.
No one reigns forever on the throne of time.
[6]
Flying beetle,
Death’s daughter of Thursday,
If anyone insults you,
Just keep quiet.
[7]
A life of oppression and unhappiness is worse
Than the affliction of a fatal malady.
Should I keep quiet when you offend me?
[8]
Let the fowl lay its thirty eggs,
And let the hawk take away twenty.
Let the fowl lay its thirty eggs,
And let the hawk take away twenty.
Let the fowl lay its thirty eggs,
And the hawk take them; I am fed up!
The rover of the town is in it,
The male crocodile who owns the nation,
Kwadwo, the shade tree of the grassland,
Let no one stir up Kurunku, lest I get involved:
I don’t want trouble.
Cockerel, the time has come to be on your guard,
For people are jealous of Kusi.
Yes, indeed!
The whole of Wenchi is jealous of Kusi.
Truly, they are.
Cockerel,
Be on your guard.
[9]
Leopard,
Stop, Leopard.
We shall not sleep tonight.
Leopard,
Children of the maid-servants of Opesa Nantwi,
We shall not sleep tonight.
Leopard,
Stop, Leopard.
We shall not sleep tonight.
Leopard,
Children of the maid-servants of Takyi Abeyaa,
We shall not sleep tonight.
Leopard,
Stop, Leopard.
We shall not sleep tonight.
Leopard, Leopard!
He has swallowed the cub of Leopard,
Leopard that plays with chiefs.
Leopard,
Stop, Leopard,
We shall not sleep tonight.
Leopard,
Children of the maid-sevants of Okafooa,
We shall not sleep tonight.
Leopard,
Stop, Leopard.
We shall not sleep tonight.
[10]
I am not the only one, weaver bird,
I am not the only one caught
In the snares of the fowler.
He will catch the sonson bird, and koo too.
Weaver bird Akosua that roams about,
Grandchild of a woman of wealth
That hails from Bonoro,
I am not the only one, weaver bird,
I am not the only one caught by the fowler.
[11]
Grandchild of Boampon of Asekere clan
That walked in majesty amid flying bullets:
Child of a leading spokesman.
He was an elephant tusk which I was going to use
For carving out a trumpet,
Ofori, child of Konkonti.
Father Apau that overpowers bullets:
Offspring of Nkwamfo Abredwom.
Alas! Death gave me no warning
So that I might get ready.
Mother will go: she has not come back yet.
I shall follow her.
Pygmy
[12]
Antiphonal Chant for the Dead
The animal runs, it passes, it dies. And it is the great cold.
It is the great cold of the night, it is the dark.
The bird flies, it passes, it dies. And it is the great cold.
It is the great cold of the night, it is the dark.
The fish flees, it passes, it dies. And it is the great cold.
It is the great cold of the night, it is the dark.
Man eats and sleeps. He dies. And it is the great cold.
There is light in the sky, the eyes are extinguished, the star shines.
The cold is below, the light is on high.
The man has passed, the shade is vanished, the prisoner is free!
Khvum, Khvum, come in answer to our call!
[13]
Spirits of the forest, ghosts of the night,
Who during the bright day,
Like the bat which sucks the blood of men,
Dwell hanging on the slippery walls of great caverns,
Behind the green moss, behind the great white stones;
Tell us who has seen them, the ghosts of the night.
Tell us who has seen them.
[14]
You are not the son of the night,
Of the deep, treacherous night,
Black as the soot of your smoky hut.
You are not the son of the night,
You are the son of the bright, clear day,
The son of the rich generous earth,
The earth, where the sweet fruits grow,
You are the son of the bright, clear day.
Ho, ho mon nga youroü welé,
No, you are not the son of the night.
[15]
Song of Nkü, the Pygmy
The forest is great, the wind is good,
Forward the Beku, your bows on your arms!
This way, that way, this way and that way.
A pig! Who kills the pig?
It is Nkü. But who eats it? Poor Nkü!
Always cut it to pieces! you will feast on . . . the tripe!
Plomp! an elephant on the ground!
Who has killed it? It is Nkü.
Who will have the fine tusks? Poor Nkü!
Always strike it down! They will leave you . . . the tail!
Without a house like the monkeys,
Who gathers honey? It is Nkü!
Who eats it till his belly aches? Poor Nkü!
Always get it down! They will leave you . . . the wax!
The Whites are there, good Whites!
Who is it who dances? It is Nkü.
But who will smoke his tobacco? Poor Nkü!
Sit down all the same and reach out your hand.
[16]
The light becomes dark,
The night, and again the night.
The day with hunger tomorrow;
The Maker is angry with us.
The Old Ones have passed away,
Their bones are far off, below.
Their spirits are wandering —
Where are their spirits wandering?
Perhaps the passing wind knows.
Their bones are far off, below.
Are they below, the spirits? Are they here?
Do they see the offerings set out?
Tomorrow is empty and naked;
For the Maker is no more there,
Is no more the host seated at the hearth.
[17]
When in the night the foot
Strikes the obstacle which strikes, rises up and bites,
Make, O serpent, you our father, the father of the tribe,
For us thy sons,
Make it be a branch which rises and strikes us,
And not one of thy children, with its sharp tooth,
O father of the tribe, for us thy sons.
[18]
If you wish to walk for long in the forest
And to feel your heart strong,
Your breast swell sturdily,
And your legs run quickly,
Friend, grill on the charcoal,
On the red coals of a burning fire,
The won with the cruel teeth,
The carp with a thousand colors
And the delicate firm flesh.
If you wish for calm sleep
To come softly and close your eyelids,
For joyful dreams, messengers from the dead,
To run and hunt at happy hunting,
The friendly place, where in the dark forest
The quick bear crouches near the stream,
And in the clearing among the peppermints
The fast antelope pricks up his ears,
Friend, in the leaves with which you are surrounded,
Friend, bake the ngol.
But if you wish for your heart
To be glad without regret,
For your belly, sated and full,
To say, “Oh! Oh! that’s enough!
Oh! Oh! I have eaten well!”
If you wish that your swollen belly
Should resist the finger that gladly presses it,
And the sound under your hand like a stretched tom-tom,
A tom-tom of skin stretched to the utmost,
If you wish that your belly should sing a glad song,
Friend, take a mpoi, friend eat a mpoi.
[19]
On the weeping forest, under the wing of evening,
The night, all black, has gone to rest happy;
In the sky the stars have fled trembling,
Fireflies which shine vaguely and put out their lights:
On high the moon is dark, its white light is put out.
The spirits are wandering.
Elephant-hunter, take your bow!
Elephant-hunter, take your bow!
In the frightened forest the tree sleeps, the leaves are dead,
The monkeys have closed their eyes, hanging from branches on high.
The antelopes slip past with silent steps,
Eat the fresh grass, prick their ears attentively,
Lift their heads and listen frightened.
The cicada is silent and stops his grinding song.
Elephant-hunter, take your bow!
Elephant-hunter, take your bow!
In the forest lashed by the great rain,
Father elephant walks heavily, baou, baou,
Careless, without fear, sure of his strength,
Father elephant, whom no one can vanquish;
Among the trees which he breaks he stops and starts again.
He eats, roars, overturns trees and seeks his mate.
Father elephant, you have been heard from afar.
Elephant-hunter, take your bow!
Elephant-hunter, take your bow!
In the forest where no one passes but you,
Hunter, lift up your heart, leap, and walk.
Meat is in front of you, the huge pieces of meat,
The meat which walks like a hill,
The meat which makes glad the heart,
The meat that will roast on the hearth,
The meat into which the teeth sink,
The fine red meat and the blood that is drunk smoking.
Elephant-hunter, take your bow!
Elephant-hunter, take your bow!
[20]
The father, a tall young man,
High grown like a tree,
Lies there and speaks no more.
No man supports a widow.
The children of men exist once only.
The father never smiled on a widow.
Now that he is dead, whom can I get?
At him alone people looked.
To what land shall I go now?
Dama
[21]
Lament
You, full-breasted one, have died.
Arise and grab your stick.
Let us go out together to dig out the field-mouse.
Your husband — when will he eat onions?
Are you truly dead? Do you live, and yet lie there?
Arise, cut a stick and let us look for the field-food.
Unwearying one, digger clothed in a skin!
Rich in girls and boys, arise!
Mother of boys, arise!
Who will give them perfume?
Your companions wish to get perfume ready.
Arise and help in preparing perfume.
Short-armed one, arise.
Tie up your skin, and let us seek field-food.
While you lie there, the women have already dug up the onions.
Therefore rise, let us go together and work.
Let us arise and look for field-mice.
Who is left to your husband to give him field-food?
Arise and say your last words to me.
Without a word of farewill, you die.
[22]
Your belly full of rock-flint,
Great-toed one, who with your feathers say tsam-tsam,
Who eat the heart of melons,
Give me one of your feathers.
Ostrich, rising and flying,
Long-necked and big-toed,
Belly full of rock-flint, great bird,
Wide-mouthed male ostrich,
Flying, running, great bird,
Give me one of your grey feathers.
Ostrich, with dusty flank,
Running great bird, fluttering feathers here and there,
Belly that says khou-khou,
Running, walking male ostrich,
Give me one of your tail feathers.
Male ostrich, looking up,
Belly that says khari, khari,
Ostrich whose bowels alone are not fit to eat,
Give me one of your leg-bones, ostrich!
He who has two bones, which say hui-hui,
Male ostrich, who has wonderful marrow,
Who with his face says gou-gou,
Might I possess you, my ostrich!
[23]
The Coming of Rain
You little earth-vole, rich in sounds,
Ant-eater killed by the Ku-Bushmen,
You cloud with your trailing track,
You, from whose chasm I drink the wonder-water of my friend,
Has a suitor appeared that man chatter?
Has a bridegroom appeared?
Do they trail game around?
You, who lighten and rain and chew the flesh of men,
You, who own water like the sea-bird!
O you who rejoice, you who rejoice!
You who are sated, sated!
You who give birds,
You mother of us all,
You with the big belly!
[24]
A Widow’s Song
Father of my little son, black as a pigeon,
You go no more on the way of the chase!
No bad young man was he.
Our store was full of flesh, my husband!
Is then the father silent?
On the way by which he was wont to come back there is darkness.
Has a scorpion hurt him?
Has he been caught by a lion?
Bushman
[25]
Lament on the Death of a Rain-Maker
Those were people
Who broke for me the string.
Therefore
This place became like this for me,
On account of it.
Because the string broke for me,
Therefore
The place does not feel to me,
As the place used to feel to me,
On account of it.
The place feels as if it stood open before me,
Because the string has broken for me.
Therefore
The place does not feel pleasant to me
Because of it.
[26]
Young moon!
Hail, young moon,
Hail, hail!
Young moon, speak to me!
Hail, hail!
Young moon!
Tell me of something.
Hail, hail!
When the sun rises,
You must speak to me,
That I may eat something.
You must speak to me about a little thing,
That I may eat.
Hail, hail,
Young moon!
[27]
Ha, ha, ha,
Ha, ha.
I am the one whom the lynx derides,
I am the one who did not run fast;
For the lynx is the one who runs fast,
Ha, ha, ha,
Ha, ha.
I am the one whom the lynx derides.
I am the one whom the lynx derides,
I am the one who could not run fast.
I am the one whom the lynx derides:
”The cat could not run fast,
It was not cunning,”It did foolish things;
For the lynx is the one who understands.”
But the cat is cunning.
The cat is the one about whom the lynx talked:
”It is the one who could not run fast.”
It had to be cunning;
For the lynx is one who is cunning.
Haggla haggla haggla
Haggla haggla
Haggla haggla haggla
Heggli
Heggli haggli haggli
Heggli n!
[28]
The old pot must remain,
The old pot must remain,
For I lie in the old hut.
The old soupbrush must remain,
The old soupbrush must remain,
For I lie in the old hut.
The old kaross must remain,
The old kaross must remain,
For I lie in the old hut.
The old bed must remain,
The old bed must remain,
For I lie in the old hut.
The old dish must remain,
The old dish must remain,
For I lie in the old hut.
[29]
Song to the Bushman Rice-Star*
O star coming there,
Let me see a springbok.
O star coming there,
Let me dig out ants’ food
With this stick.
O star coming there,
Let me see a springbok tomorrow.
O star coming there,
I gave you my heart,
Give me your heart!
O star coming there,
I may see a proteles tomorrow;
Let the dog kill it.
Let me eat it,
Let me eat and fill my body,
That I may lie and sleep at night.
_____
*The constellation Canopus, known as the “Bushman rice-star” because its rising
is connected with the appearance of termites’ larvae, known as “Bushman rice.”
Zulu
[30]
Never shall I fall in love with a suckling.
Joy, joy, O mother, this one sleeps unrealizing.
Never shall I fall in love with one who is no ladies’ man.
Joy, joy, O mother, this one sleeps unrealizing.
I would like to fall in love with a dashing he-man.
Joy, joy, O mother, this one sleeps unrealizing.
Would love him-who-appears-and-causes-heart-aches!
Joy, joy, O mother, this one sleeps unrealizing.
Yes, I would like a whirlwind of a man!
Joy, joy, O mother, this one sleeps unrealizing.
[31]
Courting Song
I am possessed,
A bird bursting on high with the ree lament
I am the untiring singer.
Dear bird, let’s sing in rivalry
Our doree ree yo . . . ;
It is my wayward self,
Singing in rivalry
The doree ree yo;
I am the untiring singer
That rocks far-off Mombasa
With the aree ree yo;
It is the voice crying the doree
That rocks far-off Nakuru;
I am the compelling Ondoro drum,
The bird bursting with the doree’s plaintive tones;
I am the untiring singer
Choking herself with the doree ree yo.
[32]
Oye oyeye!
Seek out the cowards,
The lion-conqueror strikes.
Come, let’s march into battle;
No more time for boastful arguments.
What, is the time for boastful argument over?
Begone!
Who told the news that wranglings have ceased?
The house of Qolwana set we on fire.
We make no jokes, no lies tell we.
He is full of hate, full of hate.
Oyeyiya wo!
Come, see us set flame to the house of Qolwana.
On whom will you make war
If you wipe out all the nations thus?
Ho! Ho!
You who defeat the foes
And conquer the nations.
If you wipe out the nations thus,
On whom will you make war?
Yea, what will you do?
You have subdued the kings;
You have wiped out the nations.
Where and what next, O Conqueror?
E! E! E!
[33]
I thought you loved me,
Yet I am wasting my time on you.
I thought we would be parted only by death.
But today you have disappointed me.
You will never be anything.
You are a disgrace, worthless and unreliable.
Bring my things. I will put them in my pillow.
You take yours and put them under your armpit.
You deceived me.
[34]
Song in Praise of King Shaka
His spear is terrible.
The Ever-ready-to-meet-any-challenge!
The first-born sons of their mothers
Who were called for many years!
He is like the cluster of stones of Nkandhla,
Which sheltered the elephants when it had rained.
The hawk which I saw sweeping down from Mangcengeza;
When he came to Pungashe he disappeared.
He invades, the forests echo, saying in echoing,
He paid a fine of the duiker and the doe.
He is seen by the hunters who trap the flying ants;
He was hindered by a cock in front,
By the people of Ntombazi and Langa.
He devoured Nomahlanjana son of Zwide;
He devoured Mdandalazi son of Gaqa of the amaPela;
He was lop-eared.
He devoured Mdandalazi son of Gaqa of the amaPela;
He was lop-eared.
The Driver-away of the old man born of Langa’s daughter!
The Ever-ready-to-meet-any-challenge!
Shaka!
The first-born sons of their mothers who were called for many years!
He is like the cluster of stones of Nkandhla,
Which sheltered elephants when it had rained. . . .
The Eagle-which-beats-its-wings-where-herds-graze!
He drove away Zwide song of Langa,
Until he caused him to disappear in the Ubani;
Until he crossed above Johannesburg and disappeared;
He crossed the Limpopo where it was rocky;
Even though he left Pretoria with tears.
He killed the snake, he did not kill it in summer,
He killed it when the winter had come.
Sotho
[35]
It is the yellow leopard with the spots
The yellow leopard of the cliffs
It is the yellow leopard of the broad cheeks
Yellow leopard of the broad face, I-do-not-fear
The black and white one, I-get-into-a-small-tree
I tear off the eyebrows
Clawer am I, I dig in my claws
My people I leave behind
Saying: this was not one leopard, there were ten.
Mr. Claws, scratch yourself
Even for a big man it’s no disgrace to yell if scratched
Leopards of the Tlokwa country
Of Bolea, where the Tlokwa came from
Wild cat with the broad face
Both impala buck we eat and cattle
You died in Botlokwa
In the Tlokwa-land of the sons of Mokutupi of Thsaka
Where do you go in Tlokwa-land to seize cattle?
It is full of blood, it has got the liver
Leopard of Bolea.
Yellow leopard of the clan Maloba the great
Yellow spotted one
Poor nobody, active smart fellow that summons together a huge gathering
My victim goes away with his scalp hanging down over his eyes
Leopard of the many spots
Leopard of the very dark spots
Leopard grand old man, formidable one
Even when it can no longer bite,
It still butts its adversaries out of the way with its forehead.
[36]
Song in Praise of Chief Moshesh
Frog of the regiment, companion of Shakhane and Ramakhwane,
Stirrer-up of dust,
You came from the center of the plateau of Rathsowanyane,
The child of the chief of Qhwai saw you,
You were seen by Ratjotjose of Mokhethi;
Cloud, gleaner of shields,
When Nketu is not there among the people,
The leaders of the regiment cry aloud and say,
Nketu and Ramakhwane, where are you?
[37]
The Swimming* of the Sunbird
Sunbird, secret and daring.
When you take a bit of straw,
And you imitate the hammerkop.
The hammerkop nobody can imitate.
It is the bird of those who take a new garment in the deep waters.
It is taking bits of straw one by one.
It is building above the pools.
The little sunbird should not fall.
It falls and makes phususu in the pools.
It is the patient one sitting at the drift.
The sins are passing and you see them.
The reed of the river is mocking at the reed of the plain.
It says: When the grass is burning.
The reed of the plain is laughing at the reed of the river,
It says: When the rivers get full.
_______
*”swimming”: a particular fall of the four principal bones of the diviner.
[38]
A Railroad Train
I am the black centipede, the rusher with a black nose
Drinker of water even in the fountains of the witches,
And who do you say will bewitch me?
I triumphed over the one who eats a person, the sun,
And over the pitch black darkness
When the carnivorous animals drink blood day and night.
I am the centipede, the mighty roarer that roars within.
[39]
Love Song
Tomorrow, tomorrow, my mother, I will start,
Tomorrow, father, I will start,
I will start with an axe;
With this axe I will cut the stump,
The stump on which my friend has hurt his leg,
My friend whose belt of tails hangs from his waist,
The one for whom I draw my legs out of the way.
[40]
Complaint of a Jilted Lover
Refuse me if you will, girl!
The grains of maize you eat in your village are human eyes!
The tumblers from which you drink are human skulls!
The manioc roots you eat are human tibia!
The sweet potatoes are human fingers!
Refuse me if you will, girl!
[41]
Song of the Elephant Hunters
They march in single file, the Elephants, the mighty ones,
They go to slake their thirst.
Let us go too! They’re drinking amongst the thickets! Hurrah!
Hark! the smothered roarings in the forest.
It’s a grand sound, the roaring in the forest. Hurrah!
The crying of the elephant, the mother!
It’s she who calls the hunters to the thickets.
Hurrah! It’s she who calls the hunters. Ho! Hurrah!
Yonder’s the one with ears so large and drooping.
Hurrah! the big-eared one has just passed us. Hurrah!
The boys are there;
The sound of knives being sharpened,
There from the spot where the elephant lies slain.
Hurrah! the sound of the knives being sharpened. Hurrah!
Yoruba
[42]
What about a great fight that was fought at Ofa —
Is there anyone here who witnessed a bit of it?
Although the trees that saw it here all shed their leaves,
And the shrubs that saw it were all steeped in blood,
And the very stags that saw it grew fresh horns
While the hunters looked on,
Yet I saw every bit of it,
For it was fought where I was born.
I do not claim to be old,
But I’m no more a child that must be carried to the farm.
[43]
Ogun kills on the right and destroys on the right.
Ogun kills on the left and destroys on the left.
Ogun kills suddenly in the house and suddenly in the field.
Ogun kills the child with the iron with which it plays.
Ogun kills in silence.
Ogun kills the thief and the owner of stolen goods.
Ogun kills the owner of the slave — and the slave runs away.
Ogun kills the owner of thirty pawns —
And his money, wealth and children disappear.
Ogun kills the owner of the house and paints the hearth with his blood.
Ogun is the death who pursues a child until it runs into the bush.
Ogun is the needle that pricks at both ends.
Ogun has water but he washes in blood
Ogun do not fight me. I belong only to you.
The wife of Ogun is like a tim tim.
She does not like two people to rest on her.
Ogun has many gowns. He gives them all to the beggars.
He gives one to the woodcock — the woodcock dyes it indigo.
He gives one to the coucal — the coucal dyes it in camwood.
He gives one to the cattle egret — the cattle egret leaves it white.
Ogun is not like pounded yam:
Do you think you can knead him in your hand
And eat of him until you are satisfied?
Ogun is not like maize gruel:
Do you think you can knead him in your hand
And eat of him until you are satisfied?
Ogun is not like something you can throw in your cap:
Do you think you can put on your cap and walk away with him?
Ogun scatters his enemies.
When the butterflies arrive at the place where the cheetah excretes,
They scatter in all directions.
The light shining on Ogun’s face is not easy to behold.
Ogun sacrifices an elephant to his head.
Master of iron, head of warriors,
Ogun, great chief of robbers.
Ogun wears a bloody cap.
Ogun has four hundred wives and
One thousand four hundred children.
Ogun, the fire that sweeps the forest.
Ogun’s laughter is no joke.
Ogun eats two hundred earthworms and does not vomit.
Ogun is a crazy deity who still asks questions after 780 years.
Whether I can reply, or whether I cannot reply,
Ogun please don’t ask me anything.
The lion never allows anybody to play with his cub.
Ogun will never allow his child to be punished.
Ogun do not reject me:
Does the woman who spins ever reject a spindle?
Does the woman who dyes ever reject a cloth?
Does the eye that sees ever reject a sight?
Ogun, do not reject me!
[44]
This is the oracle of a hunter
Who went hunting in the forest of Onikorogbo.
They asked him to sacrifice,
So that he might not meet his death.
They asked him to sacrifice eggs,
All the eggs in his house.
But he refused to sacrifice.
He came into the forest,
But found no animals to shoot.
After he had wandered about for a long time
He met Death.
For a while they were hunting together.
At last they found two eggs.
Death said to the hunter:
You may take them home.
The hunter proposed to divide them,
But Death refused.
The hunter went home lonely.
Soon after that famine came.
The hunter cooked the eggs
And ate them with his children.
Then Death arrived and said:
I have come for my share.
There is a famine in heaven.
And we have nothing to eat.
The hunter said: Alas,
We have already eaten the eggs.
Then Death killed the hunter and his children.
[45]
Hymn for Eshu
When he is angry he hits a stone until it bleeds.
When he is angry he sits on the skin of an ant.
When he is angry he weeps tears of blood.
Eshu, confuser of men.
The owner of twenty slaves is sacrificing,
So that Eshu may not confuse him.
The owner of thirty pawns is sacrificing,
So that Eshu may not confuse him.
Eshu confused the newly married wife.
When she stole the cowries from the sacred shrine of Oya,
She said she had not realized
That taking two hundred cowries was stealing.
Eshu confused the head of the queen —
And she started to go naked.
Then Eshu beat her to make her cry.
Eshu, do not confuse me!
Eshu, do not confuse the load on my head . . .
Eshu slept in the house —
But the house was too small for him.
Eshu slept on the verandah —
But the verandah was too small for him.
Eshu slept in a nut —
At last he could stretch himself.
Eshu walked through the groundnut farm.
The tuft of his hair was just visible.
If it had not been for his huge size,
He would not have been visible at all.
Having thrown a stone yesterday — he kills a bird today.
Lying down, his head hits the roof.
Standing up he cannot look into the cooking pot.
Eshu turns right into wrong, wrong into right.
[46]
Song in Praise of the Swazi King, Mavuso
Mavuso of Ngwane,
Dangazela of Ngwane of Sobhusa.
News of war eats the child still in the womb.
If a person can walk he would have run away.
Flee by all the paths,
Go and tell the news to Mpande of the Zulu:
Say one elephant ate another,
And covered it with dress material and quantities of beads.
Those who ran away swore by Lurwarwa,
Saying, “Msqazi will not return, he is killing.”
He fights in the darkness, when will the dawn come?
O chief that fights with the light of burning brass until the dawn comes.
They were saying that Msawazi was a boy herding calves;
We shall never be ruled by the hoe stood in the door of Majosikazi.
He will rule Mkuku and Maukusuku.
O one who comes in and goes out of sandy places,
O bird of Mabizwa-sabele
You are called by Shila of Mlambo,
For him you asked cattle from Mhlangala,
You are asked by Mawewe to ask cattle from Mzila of Soshangane.
Dutchmen of Piet Retief, we do not approve of you,
We blame you
By stabbing the chief who was helping you.
You cry at the grave of Piet Retief,
You cry at the grave of John.
O one alone without an advocate
Although Ntungwa had one:
Our chief who can stab,
I never saw a man who could stab like him.
He stabs with an assegai until he tires.
Mngqimila who bears a headdress of feathers,
Mababala who arms on a bad day,
Lomashakizela, one who goes quickly,
Lomashiyaimpi, one who leaves his army behind,
Bayete, Bayete.
Ngoni
[47]
In Praise of Ngwana
You who cut the trees and who cut out the mouths,
You the locust, the grasshopper
Who fixed in your hair the feathers of the locust.
Who went below, and climbed up,
And went to bring the morning star of the dawn.
You go, since you are rejected;
You go and bring the armlets of wild animals;
Those of cattle will be much disputed.
You will remember the fault[?] of long ago. [word uncertain]
In descending, you descend together with the mountains.
You who drank the blood of the cattle.
You who separated from the people of Shaka,
Shaka of Mbelebele kraal.
You who separated from the people of Nyathi the son of Mashobane;
It thundered, it was cloudy.
You resemble cattle which were finished by wolves.
You who originated with the people of Mzilikazi.
You who originated with the people of Mpakana son of Lidonga.
You who originates with the people of Mdwandwe.
[48]
The earth does not get fat.
It makes an end of those who wear the head plumes.
We shall die on the earth.
The earth does not get fat.
It makes an end of those who act swiftly as heroes.
Shall we die on the earth?
Listen O earth. We shall mourn because of you.
Listen O earth. Shall we die on the earth?
The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of the chiefs.
Shall we die on the earth?
The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of women chiefs.
Shall we die on the earth?
Listen O earth. We shall mourn because of you.
Listen O earth. Shall we die on the earth?
The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of the nobles.
Shall we die on the earth?
The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of the royal women.
Shall we die on the earth?
Listen O earth. We shall mourn because of you.
Listen O earth. Shall we all die on the earth?
The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of the common people.
Shall we die on the earth?
The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of all the beasts.
Shall we die on the earth?
Listen you who are asleep, who are left tightly closed in the land.
Shall we all sink into the earth?
Listen O earth the sun is setting tightly.
We shall all enter into the earth.
Nyanja
[49]
Song of the Unloved Nightjar
Moon, you must shine,
Shine that I may eat the tadpoles;
I sit on a stone, and my bones all rattle.
If it were not for my big mouth,
The maidens would be crying for me.
Bambara-Fula
[50]
Song of the Magic Drum Ncaaro
Ncaaro calls.
Let no man refuse
Ncaaro calls three things fresh
wherever men come together
You will find fresh milk
and fresh blood
and fresh excrement.
It is Ardo Gallo
that Ncaaro calls,
Ardo Gallo of Nene
and his beautiful wife of Fula.
The day the bullets struck Ardo Gallo
She took her pestle
and stood in place of her man
head to head
with three hundred Hamdalaye braves
All of them named Amadou
and all of them first sons.
It is Ardo Gallo in readiness
that Ncaaro calls.
It speaks to him
and tells him that the horses have come
with three hundred Hamdalaye braves
all of them named Amadou
and all of them first sons.
Ncaaro calls.
It tells of the day
Ardo Gallo converted.
Ncaaro tells you
that Ardo Gallo, leaving Hamdalaye mosque,
saw a man and a woman tied together
who cried out from their torture.
And Ardo Gallo asked:
”And they, what have they done?”
And he was told adultery.
And Ardo Gallo shouted out:
”If such is the religion of men
I reject it!”
The warrior on guard returned
to Nene.
At the time of his return,
Many cows and calves lay in the grass.
The time was bountiful.
Ncaaro calls.
It calls the fresh milk
But says the three hundred and three Hamdalaye braves,
all of them named Amadou,
all of them first sons,
all of them mounted on horseback,
were riding on Nene.
Ncaaro calls the horses
and fresh blood.
Listen to Ncaaro.
It tells a great tale.
Ardo Gallo took the lives
of three hundred Hamdalaye braves,
but he left three braves living
to return with these words:
”It is Ardo Gallo who I am.
Should I deny heaven;
Should I deny the earth
I will remain Ardo Gallo,
denying heaven
and denying the earth.”
Then three hundred more Hamdalaye braves
rode upon Nene.
Ncaaro speaks again,
Listen to it.
It says that
in the mosque at Hamdalaye
the Marabouts met together.
They called to Allah
and their Master told them
that a secret force was in the lute of Ardo Gallo’s bard,
And it was stronger than the force of all Hamdalaye.
Should Ardo Gallo hear it,
He could not be defeated.
Ncaaro cries out,
Saying that on the field of battle
spirits attacked the bard of Ardo Gallo;
it says that Ardo Gallo was killed
by three hundred Hamdalaye braves,
all of them named Amadou,
all of them first sons.
Ncaaro cries.
Listen to it;
Keep this tale in your minds
so that you know
that the beautiful Fula woman
threw herself in a well.
This night, Ncaaro speaks to you.
It brings back to life the noble Ardo Gallo,
buried by his beautiful Fula wife
in Nene.
Ba-Ronga
[51]
Envy
No child does one lend me!
Only a mortar will they lend me!
Ah, if I were an eagle,
Ah, if I were a hawk,
Then I would carry one away!
Lamba
[52]
Stand still, and let me give you a dove.
The dove has grown breasts.
[53]
I, the dancer of the dance of abandonment,
It is from the Lala country I have come.
When I the great doctor die,
I shall lie with the horns in my hands.
Chopi
[54]
Listen
To the mysteries!
At Chingolanini it is said there died Chindodani.
In poverty he died, this Chindodani of Chileni,
To follow his father.
We hear this death is hushed up.
It is an affair of the Chiefs.
Wani Zavala, you left Kanjengwe in prison,
So he did not say “good-bye” to you,
Not even say “good-bye,” Zavala,
When we went to play Msaho at Lisbon, there to see wonders.
We made new tunes for the Timbila in the midst of the sea
As we passed foreign lands.
She came warbling,
Dewesiyane daughter of Nyabindini,
To encourage the Timbila.
You, Manjengwe, why did you go and die?
Now you are dead, Manjengwe,
We shall not see you again.
If you appeared we should not believe our eyes.
Ask Chinzawane,
Ask Chinzawane, wife of Manjengwe,
About his death.
[55]
Hear, you diviners!
Hear, the dead are against me!
Hear, you diviners!
[56]
The Call of the Dancers
It is Filippe’s opinion
That the girls also should sign on and go to the mines.
It is Filippe’s opinion
That the girls also should sign on and go to the mines.
It is Filippe’s opinion.
What a good idea!
Gomukomu our beloved,
No kraal is good kraal unless it’s full of women;
Take your choice.
Gomukomu our beloved.
No kraal is good kraal unless it’s full of women;
Take your choice.
Even Chief’s daughters say so!
The one who killed Makoma
Will go out and weep in the night.
The one who killed Makoma
Will go out and weep in the night.
He may even take another man’s wife and so meet his death.
You, Lakeni, you refuse us the Cazhu fruit.
You will be the death of us!
You, Lakeni, you refuse us the Cazhu fruit.
You will be the death of us!
You, Lakeni, you are as black as coal,
Son of Nyamandane, you are a terror!
You Lakeni, you are as black as coal,
Son of Nyamandane, you are a terror!
It is Filippe’s opinion
That the girls also should sign on and go to the mines.
It is Filippe’s opinion
That the girls also should sign on and go to the mines.
It is Filippe’s opinion.
What a good idea!
[57]
We sing the song of royalty.
We sing the song of royal greeting.
Although you put some of us in jail, you white men,
You will not finish all of us.
Other young men are still coming to hear the Mzeno of Wusapa.
There came a lion into the compound at Hwazikingi.
Come and hear.
They must go on strike, those people, on this account.
Somali
[58]
Release
Oh girls, I am held by a spirit,
If you have any love for me,
Cut from both my shoulders
Its torments and arrows!
Choice
Oh girls, insults and praise
Sleep upon my stomach;
With which one have you fallen in love?
For which one shall I spread my grass bed?
Fortitude
Like a she-camel with a large bell
Come from the plateau and upper Haud,
My heat is great.
* * *
One of my she-camels falls in the road
And I protect its meat,
At night I cannot sleep,
And in the daytime I can find no shade.
Dance Hunger
I don’t take any of the best meat,
I don’t drink from a big vessel,
But I have a great appetite for dancing.
[59]
The Dancer’s Needs
Unless I marry a wife who has been married before,
Unless I eat her sweet-meats,
I will not have the strength to lift my foot in dance.
A Wish
You who are like the holy water which the pilgrims
Bring from Mecca, like a lantern;
You are like stone sugar;
Oh Lord, how I wish I could swallow you!
Love Songs
The oryx does not bring her young into the open,
Why are you doing this with your thigh?
* * *
A flash of lightning does not satisfy thirst,
What then is it to me if you just pass by?
* * *
It is the custom of Somali
To mock a man who has fallen in love.
* * *
One does not hurry past a DYING MAN,
Before I enter the grass, spare a word for me.
* * *
When you die you will enter the earth,
Let not the preacher then turn you from your love-song.
* * *
Is it lightning far distant for me,
That I have strained for vainly?
* * *
The girl for whom I have withered like a stick,
Are you telling me to despair of ever attaining?
[60]
I long for you, as one
Whose dhow in summer winds
Is blown adrift and lost,
Longs for land, and finds —
A grey and empty sea.
* * *
A man enchanted by the waking dream
That enters like a djinn, his heart to own,
Can never sleep, Amiina — I have been
Away, these nights, walking the clouds of heaven.
* * *
Woman, lovely as lightning at dawn,
Speak to me even once.
* * *
Do you now, Waysara, cause my head to spin,
And then refuse me solace in my wretchedness?
* * *
If I say to myself “Conceal your love!”
Who will conceal my tears?
* * *
Like a tall tree which, fallen was set alight,
I am ashes.
* * *
My heart is single and cannot be divided,
And it is fastened on a single hope;
Oh you who might be the moon.
[61]
The bonds of kindred blood that claimed
First loyalty from me,
Are sundered, Weeris, for your sake,
Since you now claim my heart.
* * *
Like a camel sick to the bone,
Weakened and withering in strength,
So I, from love of you,
O Budi, grow wasted and gaunt.
* * *
I ask the stealthy hyena
Who prowls past Dunbuluk’s fires,
If he, from his wide wandering,
Brings back one word of you.
* * *
Sustenance, shelter, kindness, and all your due,
You were refused, Dolweris, in those days:
He who begot you knows why now you seek
A bitter loveless sleep in strangers’ arms.
[62]
Your bright mouth and its loveliness,
Your fragrance, the look of you —
Ubah, flower-named, for these
My journey is forgotten.
* * *
All your beauty is to me
Like a place where the new grass sways,
After the blessing of the rain,
When the sun unveils its light.
* * *
The girls who were fair as diamonds
And slender as the trees —
In the country that they left,
Why should I remain?
* * *
Your body is to Age and Death betrothed,
And some day all its riches they will share:
Before your firm flesh goes to feed their lusts,
Do not deny my right to love you now.
* * *
You hear my pleading songs to you,
But surely the drought of the last Jilal
Has addled your brain and shriveled your heart —
Else why do you not come to me?
* * *
She is like her mother before her,
Lithe, and straight of limb.
Her body should be clad
In fine-spun silken robes.
* * *
The curving of your breasts,
Like apples sweet and small,
Tolmoon, I will know again
When night turns dusk to dark.
* * *
He who has lain between her breasts
Can call his life fulfilled.
Oh God, may I never be denied
The well of happiness.
* * *
The merciful will not ignore
A man whose death draws near:
Before the earth receives my bones,
Show mercy unto me.
* * *
Turn not away in scorn.
Some day a grave will prove
The frailty of that face,
And worms its grace enjoy.
Let me enjoy you now —
Turn not away in scorn.
[63]
Soldiers’ Marching Song
Whenever there’s a war to fight,
Gossiping talk is a waste of time;
We soldiers must march on and on,
We are the testicles of the state.
SOURCES
1-10. J.H. Kwabena Nketia, Folksongs of Ghana. London, 1963.
11. J.H. Kwabena Nketia, Funeral Dirges of the Akan People. Achimota, 2955.
12-13, 15, 17-20. R.P. Trilles, Les Pygmées de la Forêt Equatoriale. Paris, 1931. [All reprinted in C.M. Bowra, Primitive Song [1962], and probably translated by him.]
14, 16. R.P. Trilles, L’Âme du Pygmée d’Afrique. Paris, 1945. [Bowra]
21-24. H. Vedder, Die Bergdama, Vol. 2. Hamburg, 1923 [Bowra]
25-27. W.H.I. Bleek & L.C. Lloyd, Specimens of Bushman Folklore. London, 1911.
28. Dorothea F. Bleek, The Mantis and His Friends: Bushman Folklore. Cape Town, 1923.
29. I. Schapers, The Khoisan Peoples of South Africa. London, 1930.
30, 32. H.I.E. Dholmo, “Zulu Folk Poetry,” Native Teachers Journal, Natal, 27, 1947-1948.
31, 33. H.T. Tracy, Lalela Zulu: 100 Zulu Lyrics. Johannesburg, 1948.
34. E.W. Grant, Bantu Studies 3, 1927/9.
35. S.K. Lekgothoane, Bantu Studies 12, 1938.
36. G.P. Lestrade, “Bantu praise poems,” The Critic 4, South Africa, 1935.
37. F. Laydevant, “The Praises of the Divining Bones among the Basotho,” Bantu Studies 7, 1933.h
38. H.J. Van Zyl, “Praises in Northern Sotho,” Bantu Studies 15, 1941.
39-41. Henri A. Junod, The Life of a South African Tribe. New York, 1962, vol. II.
42. B.L. Lasebikan, “The Tonal Structure of Yoruba Poetry,” Présence Africaine N.S. 8/10 (1956).
43-45. B. Gbadamosi and U. Beier, Yoruba Poetry. Ibadan, 1959.
46. P.A.W. Cook, “History and izibongo of the Swazi chiefs,” Bantu Studies 5, 1931.
47-48. M. Read, “Songs of the Ngoni people,” Bantu Studies 11, 1937.
49. R.S. Rattray, Some Folk-lore Stories and Songs in Chinyanja. London, 1907.
50. Richard M. Dorson, African Folklore. Indiana University Press, 1972.
51. H. Junod, Les Chants et les Contes des Ba-Ronga. [translation in Radin]
52-53. Clement M. Doke, The Lambas of Northern Rhodesia. London, 1931.
54-57. Hugh Tracey, Chopi Musicians. London, 1970.
58-59. B.W. Andrzejewski & I.M. Lewis, Somali Poetry: An Introduction. Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1964.
60-63. Margaret Laurence, A Tree for Poverty. Nairobi, 1954.
Part 4 of The Poetry of Pre-Literate Peoples.
The Poetry of Pre-Literate Peoples is the manuscript of an unpublished anthology gathered by Kenneth Rexroth (ca. 1975). The Introduction and other editorial material by Rexroth in it are copyright 2024 and reproduced here with permission of the Kenneth Rexroth Trust. However, neither the Rexroth Trust nor Rexroth’s Literary Executor assumes any legal responsibility for my posting of the various translated song lyrics that Rexroth tentatively selected for inclusion in his anthology; they are posted here exclusively on my own responsibility. The sources of each of the translations are specified at the bottom of the webpage where they appear. These translations were originally published between 1875 and 1973. Most of the books and scholarly journals in which they originally appeared are long out of print, and many of them are in the public domain. I have reproduced them here as a noncommercial public service. If any of them are still copyrighted and the copyright owner has any objections, please notify me and I will remove them from this site. —Ken Knabb