[CAST OFF WITH NO SHADOW]

Cast off with no shadow:
an army of strong malabars
sleeps in my dark cargo hold of stars.
Cut through the waves on the outskirts of Nicobar!
Charge at the great tidal bore, trim my sails!
In these souls like clods of earth,
carry my sacks with eyes of burning coal,
sow the sky in the furrow of seas!

Stow the horizon, mizzen spar,
in my ship of shadows, questions to spare!

Translator's note: Malabar refers to Indians originally from the region of Malabar, India. It is a pejorative name for Hindus in Mauritius.

Larguez les amarres sans ombre :
dans ma cale d'étoiles, si sombre, 
dort un régiment de grands malabars.
Coupez les vagues aux abords de Nicobar!
Chargez grand mascaret, coupez mes voiles !
Dans ces âmes mottes de terre,
portez mes balles aux yeux rouges,
semez le ciel dans le sillon des mers !

Gui d'artimon, arrime l'horizon,
dans mon bateau d'ombres, que de questions !

__

[DON'T BE SCARED TO CATCH]

Don't be scared to catch
the bolom sounga's tail
and tell the light you're sorry—
the sun will be my pride
burning all blood:
sun innocent bird.
Pure man, untainted by graves:
what fall from grace does the wind bring again
and this strange sensation
of this soft old word?
The sun will be my pride
to contract my womb—
pure caress, pure burden
depriving birth,
sweet ripe fruit, untainted by man.

Translator's note: Bolom sounga refers to the Mauritian boogeyman.

Ne crains pas d'attraper
la queue de bolom sounga 
et dire pardon lumière
soleil me sera fier
pour brûler tout le sang
soleil oiseau innocent.
Pur homme pur des tombes :
quelle chute nous ramène le vent
et cette curieuse sensation
de ce doux mot d'avant?
Soleil me sera fier
pour contracter mon ventre
pure caresse pure somme
pour démunir la naissance,
doux fruit mûr pur d'homme.

__

[AS MY FLESH IS CAULKED]

As my flesh is caulked
I want to change dreams:
in dry dock at each port of call
my blood flows to the Strait of Malacca and sinks.     
As my skin is traced
within memory's enclave,
cry burning lava, my blazing banner.
O body, you have my life:
corossol vocable, obole vocable.
Waves be damned!
My blood is incense
anchored in ink.

Translator's note: A corosol is a tropical fruit with a strong flavor.

Au calfatage de ma chair
je veux changer de rêve :
à cale sèche à chaque escale
mon sang coule à Détroit de Malacca.
Au calque ma peau,
dans l'enclave mémoire,
crie chaude lave pour calicot.
O corps tu as ma vie
parole corosol parole obole.
Aux diables les vagues !
Mon sang est encens
d'une chaîne d'encre.

__

[I REIN IN THE BOUNDLESS NIGHT]

for Denise and Christian

I rein in the boundless night
by the torch of your veins;
at every artery known
your mermaid heart
hails me as nomad of waves.
O voyage, my only word of love,
your blood is carnivorous:
your bright vessel
caulks my flesh.
And let the weary night graze
my dark skin
and steer my journeys past
the shadowy holds.

Brothers, many a time
my eyes have trembled
tilling the tides.
Brothers, many a time
my hands have failed
counting lightning strikes
that lashed ribbed coral coasts.
Once, a sudden gale
made me flee through the faults
of my frozen vaults.
Brothers, many a time
the crossing became my only retrieval
of entrails.

à Denise et Christian

Je borde l'immense nuit
au flambeau de vos veines ;
à chaque artère connue
votre cœur sirène
m'appelle nomade des vagues.
O voyage mon seul mot d'amour,
ton sang est carnivore :
ton vaisseau clair
colmate ma chair.
Et passe la nuit fatiguée
sur ma peau sombre
et pousse les voyages
en cale d'ombres.

Maintes fois frères
mes yeux ont tremblé
à détacher les vagues.
Maintes fois frères
à compter la gifle d'éclair
sur les côtes de corail
mes mains ont failli.
Une fois, une soudaine bourrasque
me fit fuir par les failles
de mes cellules froides.
Maintes fois frères,
Le voyage fut mon unique retrouvaille
d'entrailles.

__

[AND THE CABIN BOY]

And the cabin boy dreamed of the last bypassed reef
precipitous crack of waves at my cliffs!
There the coral night lightens the load of the sky,
and its wound blames me for its embers!

The hatch: my thick veil for thinned marrow,
the steersman thought, to slice the split horizon.

My copper face was overhauled from silt
at the first stripping of blood and flesh.

"Our only wanderings wiped off the portolan charts,"
said the cabin boy to every drooping face.
And this country's name was my fate:
Pointe aux Piments, Cap Malheureux, Triolet!

Translator's Note: Pointe aux Piments is a coastal Mauritian village. Cap Malheureux (Cape of Bad Luck) is a village in the northern part of Mauritius. Triolet is the largest village in Mauritius.

Et le mousse rêva au dernier brisant ponté
brisure précipiteuse de vagues à mes falaises !
Là-bas la nuit corallienne allège l'azur,
et sa blessure m'accuse de sa brûlure !

Ecoutille mon rideau épais pour mœlle claire,
pensa le timonier pour fendre l'horizon.

Ma figure de cuivre changea d'habit de limon
au premier déshabillement de sang et de chair.

—Portulans et nos seules errances effacées,
dit le mousse pour tout visage affaissé.
Et ce pays eut pour nom ma destinée  :
Pointe aux Piments, Cap Malheureux, Triolet !

__

[STAR, O MY REVOLT OF LIGHT]

Star, o my revolt of light.

My drifting dream restores your sign
when angels fall.

Star, o my lovely grain lalin,
give me your heart before morning.

Don't touch the djinns, don't ever again use rasps
to break the eyes of stones;
star, o my comely dawn,
your glance is a barrow of ash—
and the heavenly body burnt before the savage slash
of darkness
restores the gold of maps.

Translator's note: Grain lalin refers to flaxseed, and is used to make a refreshing drink. It is also burned to chase away the evil eye.

Etoile, ô ma révolte de lumière.

Mon rêve égaré ramène ton signe
à la tombée des anges.

Etoile ô mon joli grain lalin
donne-moi ton cœur avant le matin.

Ne touche pas les djinns, ne prends plus les limes
pour casser les yeux des pierres ;
étoile ô mon joli grand matin
ton regard est charrette des cendres—
et l'astre brûlé avant la coupe brutale
des ténèbres
ramène l'or des cartes.
               

__

This selection of poems comes from Cargo Hold of Stars (Cale d'étoiles), forthcoming from Seagull Books in January 2021. In this book, Torabully gives voice to the millions of men and women who were indentured workers during the years spanning 1834 to the end of World War I. Torabully's poems transform the unimaginable suffering of these millions of indentured workers, transported from their homelands in former slave ships to Mauritian sugar cane fields and elsewhere, into a strong and resilient cultural identity. His language is playful, inventive, and peppered with Mauritian Creole and neologisms, which makes it especially challenging to translate. The humor of these linguistic acrobatics serves to create a kind of tension that underscores the violence he is describing.