MORNA

A poem by Joel Dias-Porter
(aka DJ Renegade)

Every night I dive into a dream
deep as the sea around Sao Vicente.
I am in love with a woman
who leaves footprints
in the sand of my dreams.
A woman bold as badiu di Santiago,
with eyes green as the trees of Santo Antao,
hair black as the beaches of Fogo,
breasts brown as the hills of Sao Nicolau.
A woman wearing a dress white as Sal,
neat as the streets of Maio,
her mouth round as Boavista,
legs slender as Santa Luzia,
feet tiny as Brava.
In the dream I lie on her beach,
while the white lips of waves lick my legs
with water warm as fresh milk.
Palm trees badja in the breeze,
as an airplane sews a white thread
across the sky's blue silk.
Her Kriolu tongue is sweet as sugar cane,
I press it between my lips.
My heart skips quick as a koladera.
The Atlantic hisses like a jealous hag,
insists these islands are only
ten pimples on a vast face.
But these are West Africa's fingertips
reaching towards America,
reaching for me.
Tonight the moon is shiny as the side of a tuna,
an evil eye, it curses me with a lunacy tireless as the tide.

This question glides through my mind like a seagull
- Will I ever see her face?
 

My pen plows crooked lines
across a barren page.
I stack these green stanzas
into a terrace on the hillside of hope.
I love a woman I only see in dreams.
The branches of all the trees
point in the direction of her passing.
Listen to the breakers of blood
crashing across the rock of my heart.
An ancient proverb says
"Love is a marketplace
with as many women as the sea has shells".

But my grandmother says
"Love is stronger than grog,
can convince you to build a house
in a volcano's mouth".
I am a burro nightly circling the same sorry path,
in love with a woman I only see in dreams.

Tudu noti N ta margudja na un sonhu
Un sonhu fundu, fundu sima mar di SanVisenti.
N sa ta gosta di un minina ki ta dixa rastu di se pÈ
Na area di nhas sonhu.
Un minina balenti sima badiu di Santiagu,
ku odjus verdi sima tapume di Santanton,
kabÈlu prÈtu sima area-l Djarfogu,
Mama murenu sima monti Sanikulau.
Un minina ku un bistidu branku sima Sal,
linpu sima ruas di Djermai,
se bÛka rodÛndu sima Bobista,
PÈrna ben fetu sima Santa Luzia,
pÈ pikinÛti sima Djabraba.
Na nha sonhu, N ta deta na se area,
Spuma di ondia ta beja nhas pÈrna
Ku agu mornu sima leti frÈsku.
Palmera ta badja na briza,
un avion ta koze sÈu ku un linha branku
Na un azul di anil
Se lingua di kriÛla dÛsi sima kana didja
N ta trapitxa-l ku nha bexu.
Nha korason ta salta sima un koladera.
Atlantiku ta sanha sima un mudjer siusmenta,
El ta insisti ku ma es ilhas È
Ka mas ki des spinha na un kara grandi.
Ma es È pÛnta di dÈdu di ¡frika ki
Sta ta tenta alkansa MÈrka,
Alkansa-m.
GÛsi li lua sta pratiadu sima barriga-l atun,
Un odju mau, ki ta amaldisua-m ku doideza
fadigadu sima marÈ.

Un pergunta ta spreta na nha pensamentu
sima un pasu sfomiadu.
N al odja se kara un dia?

Nha kanÈta ta ba ta labra
Na un fÛdja kran y sÈku
N ta djunta es versu verdi na pÈ di un
Monti di speransa.
N ta gosta di un minina ki N ta odja
SÛ na nhas sonhu.
Ramu di tudu arvi ta ponta na direson
Di se kaminhu.
Obi ondias di nha sangi ta bate na
RÛtxas di nha korason.
Ta fladu ma amor È sima un pilorinhu
Ki ten mudjer suma kÛnxa na mar.

Ma nha avÛ ta fla ma kretxeu È mas
FÛrti ki grogu,
Ta pÙ-bu faze un kaza
Na bÛka di un vulkan.
Mi È un burru ki tudu noti
kaminhu abandonadu,
Ta pasa na kel mesmu kaminhu di dor
Ki ta gosta di un minina ki N ta odja
SÛ na nhas sonhu.

N ta korda, di rapenti,
nha korason ta bate sima pilon.
N ta djobe pa baxu,
Y na nha bexu inda modjadu,
Dja el dixa palavra txuba,
Na fÛrma di un beju.