by Julia de Burgos
Ay, ay, ay, that am kinky-haired and pure black kinks in my hair, Kafir in my lips; and my flat nose Mozambiques . Black of pure tint, I cry and laugh the vibration of being a black statue; a chunk of night, in which my white teeth are lightning; and to be a black vine which entwines in the black and curves the black nest in which the raven lies. Black chunk of black in which I sculpt myself, ay, ay, ay, my statue is all black. They tell me that my grandfather was the slave for whom the master paid thirty coins. Ay, ay, ay, that the slave was my grandfather is my sadness, is my sadness. If he had been the master it would be my shame: that in men, as in nations, if being the slave is having no rights being the master is having no conscience. Ay, ay, ay wash the sins of the white King in forgiveness black Queen. Ay, ay, ay, the race escapes me and buzzes and flies toward the white race, to sink in its clear water; or perhaps the white will be shadowed in the black. Ay, ay, ay my black race flees and with the white runs to become bronzed; to be one for the future, fraternity of America !
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