Claude McKay (Клод Маккей)

The Harlem Dancer

Applauding youths laughed with young prostitutes 
And watched her perfect, half-clothed body sway; 
Her voice was like the sound of blended flutes 
Blown by black players upon a picnic day. 
She sang and danced on gracefully and calm, 
The light gauze hanging loose about her form; 
To me she seemed a proudly-swaying palm 
Grown lovelier for passing through a storm. 
Upon her swarthy neck black shiny curls 
Luxuriant fell; and tossing coins in praise, 
The wine-flushed, bold-eyed boys, and even the girls, 
Devoured her shape with eager, passionate gaze; 
But looking at her falsely-smiling face, 
I knew her self was not in that strange place.

1. Alfonso, Dressing to Wait at Table
2. The Wild Goat
3. The Tired Worker
4. Harlem Shadows
5. Rest in Peace

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