# SABAS

(for Langston Hughes)

I saw Sabás, the Negro without anger,
Begging his bread from door to door.
Sabás, the open hand? and what for?
(This Sabás is a good Negro.)

Though they may give you bread, still bread is little,
And lesser is that bread from door to door.
Sabás, the open hand? and what for?
(This Sabás is a mad Negro.)

I saw Sabás, the hairy Negro,
Begging for his dead one in God's name.
Sabas, the open hand? and again?
(This Sabás is a crude Negro.)

Take your bread, but do not beg it;
and take your light; and take your certain hope,
seize it, as a horse by the reins; stand
square in the middle of the door,
but not with an open hand,
nor with patience of madness stand;
though they may give you bread, still bread is little,
and lesser is that bread from door to door.

By God, Sabás, let no one say that!
Pull your trousers close about you
and see if that will help compose you
to control your empty belly.

Death, at times, is a good friend,
and to starve, when it's to be rid
of the taste of submission's bread,
has a certain beauty. The sky will shelter,
the sun's rays warm. And smooth is still
the porch's floor. Now wait a little:
make firm the timid step; still more
loosen the yoke about you...
By God, Sabás, not to be so mad,
Sabas, not so crude,
nor so good!

--Nicolas Guillen

Translation by
Naomi Replansky.