Felix poems

Selected Poems of Félix Morisseau-Leroy

Testament

When I die, make me a beautiful wake
I'm going neither to paradise nor hell
Don't be scared of talking latin to my head

When I die, bury me in the yard
Gather all my friends, make a big feast
Don't go past the church with my corpse

When I die, everyone should really get it on
Laugh, sing, dance, tell jokes
Don't be sappy, yell into my ear

I won't altogether be done when I'm dead;
All the places where there were great bashes,
Where people were free - they'll remember me,


- Translated from Haitian Creole by JackHirschman and Boadiba



Tourist

Tourist, don't take my picture
Don't take my picture, tourist
I'm too ugly
Too dirty
Too skinny
Don't take my picture, white man
Mr. Eastman won't be happy
I'm too ugly
Your camera will break
I'm too dirty
Too black
Whites like you won't be content
I'm too ugly
I'm gonna crack your kodak
Don't take my picture, tourist
Leave me be, white man
Don't take a picture of my burro
My burro's load's too heavy
And he's too small
And he has no food here
Don't take a picture of my animal
Tourist, don't take a picture of the house
My house is of straw
Don't take a picture of my hut
My hut's made of earth
The house already smashed up
Go shoot a picture of the Palace
Or the Bicentennial grounds
Don't take a picture of my garden
I have no plow
No truck
No tractor
Don't take a picture of my tree
Tourist, I'm barefoot
My clothes are torn as well
Poor people don't look at whites
But look at my hair, tourist
Your kodak's not used to my color
Your barber's not used to my hair
Tourist, don't take my picture
You don't understand my position
You don't understand anything
About my business, tourist
"Gimme fie cents"
And then, be on your way, tourist.

- Translated from Haitan Creole by Jack Hirschman

I'm Taking a Little Trip to the Moon


I'm taking a little trip to the moon
I've had it with life down here
Around here everything's sure hard
I'm on my way to the moon
They tell me up there there's no such thing
As good and bad people
There's no stupid guys or wise guys
No city or mountain people
All people are people on the moon
All people speak one language
I can't hack it on earth anymore
Civilization's exhausting me
Civilization's scaring me
Wherever I turn I see
People killing people
Civilization was finished a long time age
People there have forgotten that awful time
I'm taking a little trip to the moon
They tell me there's no king there
No county sheriff
No justice of the peace
No bailiff
No monseignor
I just gotta make that voyage to the moon
They tell me it's beautiful there, just beautiful
Nights are clearer than daytime
There's no time for a guy to sleep
No days for work or for play
Nights you watch the earth aglow
Brighter than the sun
And stars as close as fireflies on trees
There's no heat
No cold
No misery
No mud
Everyone's forgotten about war
Forgotten about civilization
The way the old forget colic
Measles and teething
I'm gonna live on the moon
Evenings I'll tell the kids stories
I'll tell them that the whole time the earth turns
There's a huge woman
An immense female werewolf
They call civilization
Crushing young men like ants.

- Translated from Haitian Creole by Jack Hirschman and Boadiba



Shooshoon

Whenever I have nightmares
It's the tonton macoutes I'm dreaming about

The other night I dreamed

They made me carry my coffin on my back
Everyone on all the Port-au-Prince streets was laughing at me

There were 2 or 3 boys not laughing

The other night I dreamed

They made me dig my grave in the cemetery
Everyone on television was laughing at me

There were 2 or 3 girls not laughing

The other night I dreamed

A macoute squad was getting ready to shoot me
Everyone was laughing

There was an old woman who wasn't laughing

Those little boys and girls there -
If I say more the devil will steal my voice
The old woman
Is Shooshoon Fandal
They brought her to see the macoutes shoot
Her 5 sons on a street in Grand Gosier.

- translated from Haitian Creole by Jack Hirschman and Boadiba


Bio-Bibliographic Note:

Felix Morisseau-Leroy was born in grand Gosier on March 13, 1912. He studied first in Jacmel, then in Port-au-Prince. Poet, playwrite, novelist and essayist in French and Haitian Creole, he was also a lawyer, professor and journalist. He held the position of director in the Ministry of Public Instruction and general director of National Education after specialized studies at Columbia University and theNew School of Social Research in New fork City.

"Moriso Lewa" forged the way for Haitian literature in the Creole language in the 1950's with his Dyakout collection of poems and the play, Antigone, written in the language of the Haitian people. The play was produced in Port-au-Prince in 1953. That very year he went into exile with his family. He lived in Ghana and Senegal where he continued his writings. He finally established himself in Miami with his wife Renée and continued writing to the end. He died on September 5, 1998. His works are translated into French, English, German, Russian, Fanti, Twi and Wolof. His plays are being produced around the world and will be published in Port-au-Prince, edited by Jean Yves Urfie. His books include:

Plenitudes (poems), Port-au-Price, 1940
Natif-natal (narrative poem), 1948
Diacoute (poems), Port-au-Prince, 1953
Diacoute 2, Montreal, 1972
Kasamanza, Dakar, 1977
Raviodyab/La ravine aux diables (stories in Creole and French), Paris 1982
Dyakout 1, 2, 3, 4 (poems in Creole), New York, 1990
Haitiad & Oddities (selected poems translated into English by Jeffrey Knapp), Miami, 1991
Les Djons d'Ayiti-Tonma (novel), Paris, 1996.