I met Maya Angelou in 1983. I worked for the Center for Participant Education at Florida State University and we had invited Angelou to speak on campus. I went with my friend Graciela Cuervo to fetch her at the Tallahassee airport, shook her hand and said: “Maya, I am so happy to finally meet you.” She was …
Continue reading “'I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise, I rise, I rise'”
Seamus Heaney died today. The New York Times headline described him as “Irish poet of soil and strife.” I don’t pretend to always understand poetry though I savor it. I am always awed by how poets use language in such an artful way. My favorite poet of all time remains Pablo Neruda, who is simply …
Tourist, don’t take my pictureDon’t take my picture, touristI’m too uglyToo dirtyToo skinnyDon’t take my picture, white manMr. Eastman won’t be happyI’m too uglyYour camera will breakI’m too dirtyToo blackWhites like you won’t be contentI’m too uglyI’m gonna crack your KodakDon’t take my picture, touristLeave me be, white manDon’t take a picture of my burroMy …
This poem is written by one of my favourite Bengali poets, Joy Goswami. It loses in the translation, of course. And yet… In the evening sadness comes and stands by the door, his faceIs hidden, from the dying sun he took some colors and painted his body The sadness comes in the evening,I stretched my …
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