Ain't I a Woman!

Ain't I a Woman!

por Maya Angelou

That man over there say
a woman needs to be helped into carriages
and lifted over ditches
and to have the best place everywhere.
Nobody ever helped me into carriages
or over mud puddles
or gives me a best place...

And ain't I a woman?
Look at me
Look at my arm!
I have plowed and planted
and gathered into barns
and no man could head me...
And ain't I a woman?
I could work as much
and eat as much as a man--
when I could get to it--
and bear the lash as well
And ain't I a woman?
I have born 13 children
and seen most all sold into slavery
and when I cried out a mother's grief
none but Jesus heard me...
and ain't I a woman?
that little man in black there say
a woman can't have as much rights as a man
cause Christ wasn't a woman
Where did your Christ come from?
From God and a woman!
Man had nothing to do with him!
If the first woman God ever made
was strong enough to turn the world
upside down, all alone
together women ought to be able to turn it
rightside up again.

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Misceláneas


Otros poemas de Maya Angelou (leer al azar)


We wear the mask that grins and lies.
It shades our cheeks and hides our eyes.
This debt we pay to human guile

We, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple

Soft grey ghosts crawl up my sleeve
to peer into my eyes
while I within deny their threats

When I think about myself,
I almost laugh myself to death,
My life has been one great big joke,

Your skin like dawn
Mine like musk
One paints the beginning

My man is Black Golden Amber Changing.
Warm mouths of Brandy Fine
Cautious sunlight on a patterned rug

That man over there say
a woman needs to be helped into carriages
and lifted over ditches

Your smile, delicate
rumor of peace.
Deafening revolutions nestle in the

Your hands easy
weight, teasing the bees
hived in my hair, your smile at the

Give me your hand
Make room for me
to lead and follow

She came home running
back to the mothering blackness
deep in the smothering blackness

The eye follows, the land
Slips upward, creases down, forms
The gentle buttocks of a young

Tears
The crystal lrags
Viscous tatters

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