Be Not Amazed by Leopold Sédar Senghor,m

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Be not amazed beloved, if sometimes my song grows dark,

If I exchange the lyrical reed for the Khalam or the tama

And the green scent of the ricefields, for the swiftly galloping war

drums.

I hear the threats of ancient deities, the furious cannonade of the

god.

Oh, tomorrow perhaps, the purple voice of your bard will be silent

for ever.

That is why my rhythm becomes so fast, that the fingers bleed on the

Khalam.

Perhaps, beloved, I shall fall tomorrow, on a restless earth

Lamenting your sinking eyes, and the dark tom-tom of the mortars

below.

And you will weep in the twilight for the glowing voice that sang

your black beauty.