THE POETRY OF PRE-LITERATE PEOPLES
An unpublished anthology gathered by Kenneth Rexroth (ca. 1975)
Part 7: Australia
Bathurst Islanders
Mudbara
Djanggawul
Aborigine [unspecified]
Wonguri-Mandjikai
Aranda
Nerrinyeri
Laragia
Bathurst Islanders
[1]
To a Dead Husband
Let us sit down here together,
We’ll stay here, no matter how hot the sun.
It was by the mango-tree that he shot you this morning.
It was close to your father’s grave at Partarapu.
I have plenty of hair between my legs,
And that man’s going to grab me.
Mudbara
[2]
The day breaks — the first rays of the rising Sun,
stretching her arms.
Daylight is breaking, as the Sun rises to her feet,
Sun rising, scattering the darkness, lighting up the land . . .
With disk shining, bringing daylight, as the birds whistle and call . .
.
People are moving about, talking, feeling the warmth.
Burning through the Gorge she rises, walking westwards,
Wearing her waistband of human hair.
She shines on the blossoming coolibah tree, with its sprawling roots.
Its shady branches spreading . . .
Djanggawul
[3]
Although I leave Bralgu, I am close to it. I,
Djanggawul, am paddling . . .
Paddling with all the paddles, with their flattened tapering ends.
Close I am coming, with Bildjiwuraroiju,
Coming along from Bralgu. We splash the water as we paddle.
We paddle along through the roaring tide, paddle a long way.
I am paddling along fast, through the rough sea . . .
Beside me is foam from our paddling, and large waves follow us.
With Bralbral, we move our wrists as we paddle, making
noise
As we go through the sea . . .
We, Djanggawul, are paddling along, lifting our paddles now, as we
glide.
On the sea’s surface the light from the Morning Star shines as we move,
Shining on the calmness of the sea.
Looking back I see it shine, an arc of light from the Morning Star.
The shine falls on our paddles, lighting our way.
We look back to the Morning Star and see it shine,
Looking back as we paddle.
Close is the Morning Star, stretching from its pole,
Extending out from its string . . .
Shining from Bralgu, as we paddle through the sea.
Bubbles rise to the sea’s surface; our canoe is carried on the crest of
the waves.
Ah, “waridj” Bralbral!
Sound made by our splashing paddles, and the sea’s roar
As we rise to the crest of the Wave!
We make our paddles sound, with the noise of the sea,
Sound that is heard far away at Bralgu.
We, the Djanggawul, make sound with our paddling,
Make spray as we paddle [illegible word] . . .
The salty smell! The [illegible word] sea, and its [illegible
word],
Its wide expanse behind us!
Aborigine [unspecified]
[4]
Lament [Song of a Woman Crying for the Dead Baby Son of Her Daughter]
The fire is burning at Birginbirgin and Gamwardla and
Nuga,
Burning out the wallaby and the kangaroo . . .
Ah, my daughter, my brother, my nephew, my grandchild, my cousins,
We came here from our home, my daughter, my grandchild.
We travelled, and hither we came,
We came to this unfriendly place, my daughter, my grandchild.
My baby died here!
Both of us came with our child, here we found sickness.
My country is far away, hither we came,
Travelling from place to place, my brother, my brother’s child.
Crying I carried him sick.
Who is watching and staring while father cries?
Ah, my daughter, my daughter, my grandchild!
Wonguri-Mandjikai
[5]
The Moon Bone Song
Now the New Moon is hanging, having cast away his bone:
Gradually he grows larger, taking on new bone and flesh.
Over there, far away, he has shed his bone: he shines on
The place of the Lotus Root, and the place of the Dugong,
On the place of the Evening Star, of the Dugong’s Tail,
Of the Moonlight clay pan . . .
His old bone gone, now the New Moon grows larger;
Gradually growing, his new bone growing as well.
Over there, the horns of the old receding Moon bent down,
Sank into the place of the Dugong:
His horns were pointing towards the place of the Dugong.
Now the New Moon swells to fullness, his bone grown larger.
He looks on the water, hanging above it, at the place of the Lotus.
There he comes into sight, hanging above the sea,
Growing larger and older . . .
There far away he has come back, hanging over the clans near Milingimbi
. . .
Slowly the Moon Bone is growing, hanging there far away.
The bone is shining, the horns of the Moon bend down.
First the sickle Moon on the old Moon’s shadow;
Slowly he grows,
And shining he hangs there at the place of the Evening Star . . .
Then far away he goes sinking down,
To lose his bone in the sea;
Diving towards the water, he sinks out of sight.
The Old Moon dies to grow new again,
To rise up out of the sea.
Aranda
[6]
The ring-neck parrots, in scattered flocks —
The ring-neck parrots are screaming in their upward flight.
The ring-neck parrots are a cloud of wings:
The shell parrots are a cloud of wings.
Let the shell-parrots come down to rest —
Let them come down to rest on the ground.
Let the caps fly off the scented blossoms!
Let the caps fly off the bloodwood blossoms!
Let the caps fly off the scented blossoms!
Let the blossoms fall to the ground in a shower.
The clustering bloodwood blossoms are falling down —
The clustering bloodwood blossoms, nipped by birds.
The clustering bloodwood blossoms are falling down —
The clustering bloodwood blossoms, one by one.
[7]
On the rolling stones, the maidens paint themselves
with new signs,
On the small stones they paint themselves with new signs.
They dab signs along the stripes,
They dab white spots along the stripes.
Twins, who arise from a single group, sing loudly!
Twins, who come from a single group, sing loudly!
The maidens sing loudly,
They sing so that the sound echoes from the sky.
Like water-wagtails they wander about,
In the plain they wander about.
On the shore of the salt lake they stand,
Slim, like water-wagtails, there they stand.
Narrinyeri
[8]
The Railway Train
You see the smoke at Kapunda,
The steam puffs regularly,
Showing quickly, it looks like frost,
It runs like running water,
It blows like a spouting whale.
Laragia
[9]
Waves, coming up against the rocks,
Breaking, shi! shi!
When the moon is high with its light on the waters;
Spring tide, tide flowing to the grass,
Breaking, shi! shi!
In its rough waters the young girls bathe.
Hear the sound which they make with their hands as they play!
Euahlayi
[10]
She has gone from us; never as she was will she return.
Never more as she did once will she chop honey,
Never more with her digging-stick dig yams.
She has gone from us; never as she was to return.
Mussels there are in the creek in plenty,
But she who lies here will dig no more.
We shall fish as of old for cod-fish,
But she who lies here will beg no more oil;
Oil for her hair, she will want no more.
Never again will she use a fire.
Where she goes, fires are not.
For she goes to the women, the dead women.
And women can make no fires.
Fruit there is in plenty and grass seed,
But no birds nor beasts in the heaven of women.
SOURCES
1. Catherine H. Berndt, “Expression of Grief among Aboriginal Women,” Oceana vol. 20, 1950.
2, 9. Ronald M. & Catherine H. Berndt, The First Australians. Sydney, 1952. (Trask pp. 243 & 244)
3. Ronald M. Berndt, Djanggawul: An Aboriginal Religious Cult of North-Eastern Arnhem Land. London, 1952.
4. Catherine H. Berndt, “Expression of Grief among Aboriginal Women,” Oceana 20, 1950. (Trask p. 244)
5. Ronald M. Berndt, “A Wonguri-Mandjikai Song Cycle of the Moon-Bone,” Oceana vol 19. (Trask p. 252)
6. T.G.H. Strehlow, Aranda Traditions. Melbourne, 1947. [via Bowra?]
7. Carl Strehlow, Die Arana- und Loritja-Stamme in Zentral-Australien. Frankfurt-am-Main, 1907-1920, Vol. IV. (Bowra p. 75)
8. George Taplin, “The Narrinyeri,” in J.D. Woods’s The Native Tribes of Australia. Adelaide, 1879.
10. Katie Langloh Parker, The Euahlayi Tribe: A Study of Aboriginal Life in Australia. London, 1905.
Part 7 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