Jean Toomer
„A speck of black makes you black”
"Jean Toomer (1894-1967), recunoscut ca unul dintre poeții inovatori ai anilor ’20, a ridicat pe culmi noi expresia artistică a negrilor americani."
Texte în alte limbi:
Harvest Song
I am a reaper whose muscles set at sundown. All my oats are cradled. But I am too chilled, and too fatigued to bind them. And I hunger. I
Reapers
Black reapers with the sound of steel on stones Are sharpening scythes. I see them place the hones In their hip-pockets as a thing that\'s
Georgia Dusk
The sky, lazily disdaining to pursue The setting sun, too indolent to hold A lengthened tournament for flashing gold, Passively darkens for
The Lost Dancer
Spatial depths of being survive The birth to death recurrences Of feet dancing on earth of sand; Vibrations of the dance survive The sand; the
Portrait in Georgia
Hair--braided chestnut, coiled like a lyncher\'s rope, Eyes--fagots, Lips--old scars, or the first red blisters, Breath--the last sweet
Song of the Son
Pour O pour that parting soul in song, O pour it in the sawdust glow of night, Into the velvet pine-smoke air to-night, And let the
