The black glassmaker by Jean-Joseph Rabéarivelo,

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whose countless eyeballs none has ever seen,

whose shoulders none has overlooked,

that slave all clothed in pearls of glass,

who is strong as Atlas

and who carries the seven skies on his head,

one would think that the vast river of clouds might carry him

away,

the river in which his loincloth is already wet..

A thousand particles of glass

fall from his hands

but rebound towards his brow

shattered by the mountains

where the winds are born.

And you are witness of his daily suffering

and of his endless task;

you watch his thunder-riddled agony

until the battlements of the East re-echo

the conches of the sea –

but you pity him no more

and do not even remember that his sufferings begin again

each time the sun capsizes.