Attention by Mindelense

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The lights of the city glide within me 

but do not pierce through me with their glitter 

deep in me there will persist the black depths 

of the black history I hear singing

I have heard of blood that ran in torrents

and of the whip that cracked a thousand times,

of the white man who stood guard on the slaves,

sparks in his eyes and thunder in his voice.

We here are the children of a dense night 

which is shattered in place by strange cries 

rages suppressed for many hundred years 

today are globules of our own red blood.

Oh wonderful things, oh cities of light

your lights do not keep company with me

within me there still remains the black bass

of the black history I hear singing.