The Hurricane By Leopold Sédar Senghor

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The Hurricane

By

Leopold Sédar Senghor

Everything round me torn out by the hurricane 

And out of me torn by the hurricane leaves and idle words.

Whirlwinds of passion hiss in silence 

But peace upon the dry windstorm, upon the flight of  the rains!

You, Wind, fiery and pure Wind, fair-weather Wind, 

burn every flower every empty thought 

When the sands fall back on the dunes of the heart. 

Servant, be suddenly still as a statue, children still at

your games and your ivory laughter.

You, your voice be consumed with your body, 

the perfume of your flesh be dried By that flame which illumines my night, 

like a column,

like a palm.

Set my lips ablaze with blood, O Spirit, 

breathe on the strings of my kora

That my song may rise up, 

pure as the gold of Galam