FAO Quotables

"But being right, even morally right, isn't everything. It is also important to be competent, to be consistent, and to be knowledgeable. It's important for your soldiers and diplomats to speak the language of the people you want to influence. It's important to understand the ethnic and tribal divisions of the place you hope to assist."
-Anne Applebaum

Showing posts with label jean-joseph rabearivelo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jean-joseph rabearivelo. Show all posts

Monday, March 11, 2013

Malagasy Romantic Poet Rabearivelo's "I" from "From the Night"


Malagasy Romantic Poet Rabearivelo's "I" from From the Night

I
A scarlet star
evolves in the depths of the sky--
























what flower blooms in the prairie of the night?
Evolves, evolves,
then becomes like a kite released by a sleeping child.

It seems to drift both nearer and farther away,
loses its color like a drooping flower,
becomes cloud, becomes white, diminishes:
is no more than a diamond point
graving the blue mirror of the sky
where the glorious lure
of the nubile morning is already seen.

















Other Madagascar Posts:
"Lunar Images" from Rabearivelo's From the Night
"Fruits" from Rabearivelo's Almost-Dreams
"9" from Rabearivelo's From the Night
"51" from Rabearivelo's Old Songs From Imerina Lands
"Zebu"from Rabearivelo's Almost Dreams
Peace Corps Vignette on Mango Season in Madagascar
Business Case Study on Mango Production in Madagascar

African Poets of the Week Compilation

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Malagasy poet Rabearivelo's "Lunar Images" from 'Almost Dreams' (Saiky-Nofy)

Poem of the week from Malagasy poet Rabearivelo's "Lunar Images" from 'Almost Dreams' (Saiky-Nofy)

Lunar Images (Sarisarim-Bolona)

















Moonlight, moonlight--what then?

Do not drink too much of the milk that drips
from the teats of this savage one-eyed dog
baying into the wild lands of the sky
as though to summon from within the desert of the night
its countless offspring
opening their eyes: myriads of stars












Moonlight, moonlight--what then?

The wind itself is milky,
which shakes the sculpted shadows
on the earth
and multiplies the number of visible
souls of all things
that seem to flee the baying--silent
but resounding everywhere

Moonlight, moonlight--what then?

Do you see those gentle birds
that grow within the spectral landscape?
They feed on shadow,
they peck at night.
What will they fill their crops
when the stalks of rice and corn
carried off by the cocks
become songs in them?

Moonlight, moonlight--what then?

I am no longer young enough
to seek a lunar sister outside
after the games of little girls:
I will hold my children on my lap until they fall asleep,
and there are many books to be read with my wife
until the moon changes
and becomes itself for us
while waiting for the dawn
that will overtake us on the shores of sleep.
















Other Madagascar Posts:
"Fruits" from Rabearivelo's Almost-Dreams
"9" from Rabearivelo's From the Night
"51" from Rabearivelo's Old Songs From Imerina Lands
"Zebu"from Rabearivelo's Almost Dreams
Peace Corps Vignette on Mango Season in Madagascar
Business Case Study on Mango Production in Madagascar

African Poets of the Week Compilation


Saturday, January 26, 2013

"Fruits" from Rabearivelo's "Almost-Dreams"

"Fruits" from Rabearivelo's "Almost-Dreams"


Fruits

You may choose
among the fruits of the perfumed season;
but this is what I will show you:
two plump mangos
where you may suck the sun melted within.
Which will you take?
This one, as double and firm
 as the breasts of a young girl,
and which is acid?
Or that one, pulpy and sweet as honey?
One will be only passionate delights, 
but will have no offspring
and will be covered by the grass.
The other,
a spring gushing from the rock,
will refresh your throat
and then become a vault full of echos in your courtyard,
and those who come after you will gather there fragments of the sun.



















About the poet:
As someone who has always been drawn to the French Romantic poets, Rabearivelo strikes a chord with me.  As African poets go he's an obscure despite laying claim to the unofficial title as "Africa's first modern poet."
   
He died by suicide, in 1937 having lived his entire life on what was then the French pastoral colony of Madagascar (he was prohibited by the authorities from leaving the island).

Other Madagascar Posts:
http://fuuo.blogspot.com/2010/08/poem-of-week-jean-joseph-rabearivelo-9.html
http://fuuo.blogspot.com/2012/11/rabearivelo.51.songs.poetry.madagascar.html
http://fuuo.blogspot.com/2012/11/5-from-rabearivelos-from-night-nadika.html
http://fuuo.blogspot.com/2012/12/rabearivelos-zebu-from-almost-dreams.html
http://kruzoo.blogspot.com/2013/01/mangoseason.madagascar.html
http://www.docstoc.com/docs/49911288/Mango-Groove-(A)-1-Mahajanga-Madagascar



Some of my favorite poetry books:

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Rabearivelo's "Zebu" from Almost Dreams

Rabearivelo's "Zebu" from Almost Dreams

















Zebu

Arched like the towns of Imerina
prominent on the hills,
or hewn like the gables
sculpyed by the moon on the earth
look! the powerful bull--
scarlet like the color of his blood

He has drunk at the river banks,
he has grazed on cactus and lilac;
look how he crouches before the manioc
still heavy with the scent of the earth,
and before the rice straw
smelling strongly of sun and shadow.

Evening has deepened everywhere,
there is no more horizon,
and the bull sees a desert extending
to the frontiers of night
His horns are like a crescent
that rises.

Desert, desert,
desert before the powerful bull
that has gone astray with the evening
in the kingdom of silence,
what do you evoke in his somnolence?
Is it his kind that have no hump
and that are red like the dust
scattered at their passing,
they, the masters of uninhabitated lands?
Or his ancestors fattened by the peasants
and led to town, adorned with ripe oranges,
to be slaughtered in honor of the King?

He leaps, he bellows,
he who will die without glory,
then sleeps again, waiting,
and he seems like a hump of the earth.

Other Madagascar Posts:
http://fuuo.blogspot.com/2010/08/poem-of-week-jean-joseph-rabearivelo-9.html
http://fuuo.blogspot.com/2012/11/rabearivelo.51.songs.poetry.madagascar.html
http://fuuo.blogspot.com/2012/11/5-from-rabearivelos-from-night-nadika.html














Some of my favorite poetry books:

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Rabearivelo's "Reading" from Almost Dreams

"Reading" (from Almost Dreams (Saiky-Nofy)

Do not make noise, do not speak:
Eyes, heart, soul, dreams
will explore a forest...
Secret, perceptible forest:
Forest.
Forest rustling with silence,
forest where the bird to be trapped has escaped,
the bird to be trapped and made to sing
or made to weep --
made to sing, made to weep
the place of its hatching.
Forest. Bird.
Secret forest, bird hidden
in your hands.





















Other Madagascar Posts:
http://fuuo.blogspot.com/2010/08/poem-of-week-jean-joseph-rabearivelo-9.html
http://fuuo.blogspot.com/2012/11/rabearivelo.51.songs.poetry.madagascar.html
http://fuuo.blogspot.com/2012/11/5-from-rabearivelos-from-night-nadika.html
Some of my favorite poetry books:

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

"5" from Rabearivelo's From the Night (Nadika Tamin'ny Alina)

"5" from Rabearivelo's From the Night (Nadika Tamin'ny Alina)

Love this poem, especially that last line--what a raw and true sentiment.

5
You sleep, my darling;
you sleep in her arms, my youngest child
I do not see your eyes, heavy with night,
which shine like beads of real gold
or like ripe grapes.

A gust of fine wind half-opens our door,
puffs up your thin dress
and ruffles your hair,
then sweeps a paper from my table,
which I chase to the threshold.

I lift my head,
and there in my hand is the poem just begun:
your eyes blink in the sky
and I call the poem: STARS.



Tuesday, November 20, 2012

"51" from Rabearivelo's "Old Songs From Imerina Lands"

"51" from Rabearivelo's Old Songs From Imerina Lands

-- There, to the west, is a tree that has little pretty leaves.
-- It's not the tree that has little pretty leaves, but it is us, here, who have a pretty little love.

et en Francais

-- La, a l'ouest, il y a un arbre qui a des petites et jolies feuilles.
-- Ce n'est pas pas l'arbre qui a des petites et jolies feuilles, mais c'est nous, ici, qui avons un joli petit amour