Poem

An iron and my grandmother

The iron made me feel

as if I were traveling across

motorways of rememberings,

it´s all revival.

My grandmother taught me

the science of ironing

while I experienced there

the art of listening.

I don´t use this gadget

since she does it.

However, I pull away

all what she irons

inside the wardrobe drawers.

by Maricel

Boule de suif

The story shows how the high class society uses the low one to achieve its economic or political interests. Boule de Suif is treated like an object, like a thing by the people from the high class. She is obliged to have sex to a Prussian for the other people´s interest, even when she has values. They do not have values. Then they do not talk to them, they ignored Boule de Suif, they make fun of her. It is cruel how people within a society make difference among them, regarding social status and quantity of money.

The little black boy

My mother bore me in the southern wild,

And I am black, but O! my soul is white;

White as an angel is the English child,

But I am black as if bereav´d of light.

My mother taught me underneath a tree,

And, sitting down before the heat of day,

She took me on her lap and kissed me,

And pointing to the east began to say:

" Look on the rising sun: there God does live,

And gives his light, and gives his heat away;

And flowers and trees and beasts and men recieve

Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.

"And we are put on earth a little space,

That we may learn to bear the beams of love;

And these black bodies and this sunburnt face

Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.

"For when our souls have learn´d the heat to bear,

The cloud will vanish; we shall hear his voice,

Saying: "Come out from the grove, my love and care,

And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice.""

Thus did my mother say, and kissed me;

And thus I say to little English boy.

When I from black and he from white cloud free,

And round the ntent of God like lambs we joy,

I´ll shade him from the heat, till he can bear

To lean in joy upon our father´s knee;

And then I´ll stand and stroke his silver hair,

And be like him, and he will then love me.