Breath by Birago Diop

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Listen more to things 

Than to words that are said.

The water's voice sings 

And the flame cries 

And the wind that brings 

The woods to sighs 

Is the breathing of the dead.

Those who are dead have never gone away. 

They are in the shadows darkening around,

They are in the shadows fading into day,

The dead are not under the ground. 

They are in the trees that quiver,

They are in the woods that weep,

They are in the waters of the rivers,

They are in the waters that sleep.

They are in the crowds, they are in the homestead.

The dead are never dead.

Listen more to things 

Than to words that are said. 

The water's voice sings 

And the flame cries

And the wind that brings 

The woods to sighs 

Is the breathing of the dead. 

Who have not gone away 

Who are not under the ground 

Who are never dead.

Those who are dead have never gone away. 

They are at the breast of the wife. 

They are in the child's cry of dismay 

And the firebrand bursting into life. 

The dead are not under the ground. 

They are in the fire that burns low 

They are in the grass with tears to shed, 

In the rock where whining winds blow 

They are in the forest, they are in the homestead. 

The dead are never dead.

Listen more to things 

Than to words that are said. 

The water's voice sings 

And the flame cries 

And the wind that brings 

The woods to sighs 

Is the breathing of the dead.

And repeats each day 

The Covenant where it is said 

That our fate is bound to the law, 

And the fate of the dead who are not dead 

To the spirits of breath who are stronger than they. 

We are bound to Life by this harsh law 

And by this Covenant we are bound 

To the deeds of the breathings that die 

Along the bed and the banks of the river, 

To the deeds of the breaths that quiver 

In the rock that whines and the grasses that cry

To the deeds of the breathings that lie

In the shadow that lightens and grows deep 

In the tree that shudders, in the woods that weep, 

In the waters that flow and the waters that sleep, 

To the spirits of breath which are stronger than they 

That have taken the breath of the deathless dead 

Of the dead who have never gone away 

Of the dead who are not now under the ground.

Listen more to things 

Than to words that are said.

The water's voice sings 

And the flame cries 

And the wind that brings 

The woods to sighs

Is the breathing of the dead.