Ferrements

by Aimé Césaire

Poèmes d'Aimé Césaire, 1960.

Aimé Césaire, poète, dramaturge et homme politique mondialement reconnu, a joué un rôle considérable dans la prise de conscience des acteurs politiques et culturels de la décolonisation.

Genres: Poetry

92 pages, Mass Market Paperback

First published January 1, 1958

About the author

Martinique-born poet, playwright, and politician Aimé Fernand Césaire contributed to the development of the concept of negritude; his primarily surrealist works include The Miracle Weapons (1946) and A Tempest (1969).

A francophone author of African descent. His books of include Lost Body, with illustrations by Pablo Picasso, Aimé Césaire: The Collected Poetry, and Return to My Native Land. He is also the author of Discourse on Colonialism, a book of essays which has become a classic text of French political literature and helped establish the literary and ideological movement Negritude, a term Césaire defined as “the simple recognition of the fact that one is black, the acceptance of this fact and of our destiny as blacks, of our history and culture.” Césaire is a recipient of the International Nâzim Hikmet Poetry Award, the second winner in its history. He served as Mayor of Fort-de-France as a member of the Communist Party, and later quit the party to establish his Martinique Independent Revolution Party. He was deeply involved in the struggle for French West Indian rights and served as the deputy to the French National Assembly. He retired from politics in 1993. Césaire died in Martinique.

Reviews

[Steven Godin · Rating 4 out of 5]

très haut trouvé sourire perdu
au double confin incandescent
l'un de sel l'autre de silence
morts qui remontent aux yeux des astres
l'événement passe dans les nuages

hors d'un caverneux sommeil velu
deux yeux écouteurs sans parler
de pierres qui les fermentent
comme la doute défaisant
sans rien toucher rôde en tonnerre

rumeur pure quoique mêlée
à choses précieuses qui rendent gorge
vive agonie bien éphémère
d'une flamme non coutumière

mobile fléau de songes ètranges

- - -

Va, autour de moi, de mon flanc
de ma tête, de mon noueux cœur noir, aux confins,
ta ronde, harcelant de la cohue des affres
mon nom.

Que perce, transperce l'écorce résistante
le bec. Pour le reste s'ourle des termites la clandestine trame
dans la proie engrangeant jusqu'au fond la morsure.

Or nul assaut ne déniant persévérant mon nom
en la lymphe bien plutôt qui me centuple Persée
je parcours l'intime fosse alimentant mes monstres
voraces mes soleils et l'orage outre aubier me calcule
contre-saison en anneaux d'arbre
lents secrétaires d'un séisme.