I look at the world, par Langston Hughes

Langston Hughes

I look at the world

From awakening eyes in a black face—

And this is what I see:

This fenced—off narrow space

Assigned to me.

I look then at the silly walls

Through dark eyes in a dark face—

And this is what I know:

That all these walls oppression builds

Will have to go!

I look at my own body

With eyes no longer blind—

And I see that my own hands can make

The world that’s in my mind.

Then let us hurry, comrades,

The road to find.

Source: Poetry (January 2009).

#AmericanWriters (January 2009) Poetry Source:

Préféré par...

Autres oeuvres par Langston Hughes...

Cultural Exchange

In the Quarter of the Negroes Where the doors are doors of paper Dust of dingy atoms Blows a scratchy sound. Amorphous jack—o’—Lanterns caper

The Ballad of the Landlord

Landlord, landlord, My roof has sprung a leak. Don’t you 'member I told you abou… Way last week? Landlord, landlord,

Ardella

I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams

Advertisement for the Waldorf-Astoria

Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:

To Artina

I will take you heart. I will take your soul out of your… As though I were God. I will not be satisfied With the touch of your hand

Sylvester’s Dying Bed

I woke up this mornin’ ’Bout half-past three. All the womens in town Was gathered round me. Sweet gals was a-moanin’,

Silence

I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.

Dreams

Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams

Wake

Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.

Catch

Big Boy came Carrying a mermaid On his shoulders And the mermaid Had her tail

The Blues

When the shoe strings break On both your shoes And you’re in a hurry— That’s the blues. When you go to buy a candy bar

The Fourth Estate, by Giuseppe Pellizza da Volpedo

Oppression

Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.

For Selma

In places like Selma, Alabama, Kids say, In places like Chicago and New York...

Bound No’th Blues

Goin’ down the road, Lawd, Goin’ down the road. Down the road, Lawd, Way, way down the road. Got to find somebody

Mulatto

I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!

Langston Hughes