1.The Skin

First the goat must be killed

and the skin stretched.

Bless you, four-footed animal,

who eats rope, skilled upon rocks,

horned with our sin;

stretch your skin, stretch it tight,

tight on our hope

we have killed you to make a thin voice

that will reach further than hope,

further than heaven,

that will reach deep down to our gods 

where the thin light cannot leap

where our stretched hearts cannot leak.

Cut the rope of its throat,

skilled destroyer of goats;

its sin spilled on the washed gravel,

reaches and spreads to devour us all,

So the goat must be killed

and its skin stretched.

 

2. The Barrel of the Drum

For this we choose wood of the tweneduru tree:

hard duru wood with the hollow blood

that makes a womb.

in this silence we hear the wounds of the forest;

we hear the sounds of the rivers;

vowels of reedlips, pebbles of consonants,

underground dark of the continent.

You dumb adom wood will be bent, 

will be solemnly bent,

belly rounded with fire,

wounded with tools that will shape you.

You will bleed, cedar dark, when we cut you;

speak, speak when we touch you.

 

3.The Two Curved Sticks of the Drummer

There is a quick stick grows in the forest, 

blossoms twice yearly without leaves;

bare, bare white branches

crack, crack like lightning,

like lightning in the harmattan.

But no harm comes to those, 

to those who live nearby.

This tree, the elders say, will never, never die.

From, from this stripped tree,

stripped tree snap quick sticks for the festival.

Its wood, heat-hard, its wood,

heat-hard as stone,

as stone is toneless

 

4.Gourds and Rattles

Calabash trees’ leaves do not clash;

bear a green gourd,

Burn, burn copper in the light,

crack open seeds that rattle.

Blind underground

the rat’s dark saw-teeth bleed the wet root,

snap its long drag of time, its grit, its flavor;

turn the ripe leaves sour.

Clash rattle, sing gourd.

never leave time’s dancers weary like this tree,

that makes and mocks our music.

Calabash trees.

 

5.The Gong-Gong

God is dumb until the drum speaks,

the drum is dumb,

is dumb until the gong-gong leads it.

Man-made, the gong-gong’s iron eyes of music 

walk us through the humble dead

to meet the dumb blind drum,

where Odomankoma speaks.

西元1984年，在契爾考特造訪烏干達（Uganda）時，有一位製鼓者贈送他一面非常漂亮的鼓，其鼓面（Head）是由蛇皮製作而成的。契爾考特在回憶這段經歷時寫道「當我準備要搭飛機回家時，偶然間看到行李員準備將那面鼓送上飛機。我永遠不會忘記那位行李員在照顧那面鼓時那種恭敬的、非常小心的態度」，他認為「對烏干達人來說，鼓是有靈魂的。」因此在這個機緣之下，他寫下這首作品。

 

這首詩主要是在讚頌鼓的靈魂被賦予生命的過程：一面鼓的製作，是經由大自然的犧牲而達成的。因此在這首詩中，我們將會聽到如何宰殺羔羊以取得牠的皮、如何砍伐一棵樹以建構鼓的本體，以及如何取得樹枝及繩索等等；而這所有的一切，都是用來賦予一面鼓新的生命，讓它能夠貢獻給神靈，並使用於音樂及舞蹈。

 

〈製鼓之歌〉詩詞作者布萊瓦特，為加勒比海地區的巴貝多（Barbados）人、英國薩西克大學（Sussex）哲學博士。他是當前來自加勒比區最著名的作家，發起了加勒比藝術家運動。布萊瓦特擅於將詩句配合上鼓的節奏，並加入音樂當中，用來輔助詩句的韻律性。他曾在牙買加的西印度群島大學、美國哈佛大學、耶魯大學任教，目前為紐約大學比較文學教授。