I want to be a drum

 By José Craveirinha (28 May 1922 - 6 February 2003)
(Mozambique, 1959)

The Drum is all weary from screaming
Oh ancient God of mankind
let me be a drum because I want to be a drum
body and soul just a drum
just a drum playing in the hot tropical night.

I don’t want to be a flower born in the forest of despair
I dont want to be a river flowing to the sea of despair
I dont want to be a lamp tempered in the hot flame of despair
Not even a poem forged in the searing pain of despair.

Nothing like that! I want to be a drum!

Just a drum worn from wailing in the full moon of my land
Just a drum skin cured in the sun of my land
Just a drum carved from the solid tree trunks of my land

Just a drum splitting the bitter silence of the village
Just a drum worn from sitting in on the jam sessions of my land
Just a drum lost in the darkness of the lost night.

Oh ancient God of mankind
I want to be a drum, just a drum
not a river
not a flower
not a lmp for just now
and not even a poem. I don want to be a poem.
Only a drum echoing like the song of strength and life
Only a drum night and day
day and night, only a drum
until the final great jam session!
Oh ancient God of mankind
let me be a drum
just a drum!