|
Hippolyte Castra, from Nos Homme et Notre Histoire par Rodolphe L. Desdunes translated by Jennifer Gipson This text is presented in the framework of the project "The stories that history tells us: Afro-Créole literature from 19th Century Louisiana". Introduction: Afro-Créoles in the Battle of New Orleans
I remember one childhood day One beautiful morning, my mother said with a sigh: “My child, vision of innocence, “You do not know what fate awaits you. “Beneath this beautiful sky, you see your country: “But see the error of your ways, my tender son, “And above all believe your dear mother… “Here, you are only an object of scorn.” Ten years latter, across our vast frontiers, The British cannons sounded, And evoked these words: “Come, my brothers, forward to victory, “We are all born of Louisiana blood.” With these sweet words, after embracing my mother, I followed and echoed your cries, Not thinking, in my war-crossed road, That I was only an object of scorn. Arriving on the battlefield, I fought like a brave warrior. Neither cannon balls nor hail of bullets, Could ever, ever terrify me. I fought with great courage Seeking only to serve my country, Unaware that, for my reward, I would be only an object of scorn. After garnering the victory, In this dreadful and glorious fight, You gave me to drink from your cup, And called me a valiant soldier. With a sincere heart and no regrets, Alas! I drank, believing you to be my friends, Unaware, amidst my fleeting joy, That I was only an object of scorn. But, today, I sadly sigh, For I see that all has changed; I no longer see that gracious smile That sparkled on your honeyed lips, But wonder where are my foes; Ah! I see it in your fierce glances: I am nothing but an object of scorn. translated by Jennifer Gipson |