"Still I'll Rise"... by Maya Angelou [en ocasión de su partida de este mundo el 28 Mayo 2014]

[Maya Angelou - es una poeta norteamericana, negra, exquisita...su poesía me transmite una fuerza y colores increíbles, los versos que escribe tienen cadencia y ritmo peculiares -. La transcribo en inglés, su idioma original, porque creo que así se pueden sentir mejor sus palabras. Still I rise es un poema que te llena de fuerza, a pesar de todas las adversidades, intencionadas o fortuitas, nos levantaremos como el polvo, en el aire. La foto la llamo: perseverancia... Una flor que nace en la acera, sin alimento, expuesta, se abre camino y florece. Miren al cielo flores del cemento, elevense por sobre el duro concreto, busquen la luz, a través de la grieta, una semilla de flor está sola, en una grieta de la acera, sin luz, con poca humedad, con poco alimento, pero si esta flor hablara inglés y se le escuchara la voz, diría: "Still I'll rise".]

You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? 'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high,Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops.Weakened by my soulful cries. Does my haughtiness offend you? Don't you take it awful hard 'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness,But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I've got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history's shame I rise Up from a past that's rooted in pain.I rise I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise I rise I rise.

Maya Angelou