The Child Race (La Infana Raco)
Chapter1
By William Auld
Translation by Steven K. Smith 24 May ‘03


Greetings, to thee, oh mason, to Ruben, my foresire
Who in life climbed up and down the church's cloud-high spires
To carve up there the angel's smiles and gargoyle's pointed tails!

And you, Ruben's descendent, who on the sea unfurled sails
on deadly ships whereon the pirate's flag cavorted
and on land, the tavern keeper's second daughter courted
and left her there, with child, completely disappearing
into the ocean's bottom, I now salute you, cheering!
(And you as well, indeed, the tavern keeper's daughter
who nursed the baby that became my many times great-grandfather
whose school was in the gutters, with vile rogues, gallows bound
concerned with whores and vagrants, sleeping upon the ground
and sowed a dozen bastards, one of whom then went
out with the war to Poland, and each free moment spent
with wanton women in every town throughout the land
and made of me a cousin to every single Polish man!)
To the millions of my forebears, who did sweat beneath the lash
from your great-great-great-grandson, I greet you now, at last
though you may find it strange that I, as well salute
as family those who yoked you, to grind beneath their boot.
It seems quite strange to you, I guess, that the castle's lordly heir
and that your peasant offspring, in ragged slave-boy fare,
by some strange quirk of fate, in equal shares combine
across the many centuries to form this blood of mine.
(In truth you're surely not alone in your surprise.
Even more, the castle's heir gapes with widened eyes.)
And you as well, my savage, unwashed far-foresire
who fought invading Romans with swords, and stones, and fire
and vanquished them at last, to drive them from your nation
I now salute you: Ave!

Yes, this whole population
(or nearly) fathered me, per proof by calculation,
that the sum of my ancestors, who caused my life's creation
in that date already is greater by several times
than the total population within our border lines!
But also in the ranks of the attacking Roman army
can be found more than a single one who fathered me.
So when the Roman fought the savage in a battle to the death,
sword to sword and hand to hand 'til only one drew breath,
two men that fought each other to the grave whose seed combine
post centuries apart to form this blood of mine.
With a mighty blow one of them brings forth the crimson flood
and so the donor of my blood, spills out my very blood...

Without enthusiasm I offer out a hand
to my puritan, frowning forebear, far across time and land.
A warm embrace for you, the actor, fond of drinking,
it is from you, in chief, I get the manner of my thinking.
A kiss for you, Maria, who picks flowers in the wild,
A hug for you, Leona, who soon will bear a child
but as for the father's name you never were quite certain,
you were always expert in both kitchen arts and flirting.
And you, tailor-ancestor, I greet you with warm feeling
and you...
and you...
you as well...

but now, my mind a-reeling
refuses to consider, or try to grasp all the connections
of this chain of our relations, of births and of conceptions
which gave rise my existance, and made me a relation
in some far distant way to every person in the nation,
to every whore and beggar, peer or learned barrister
from your land and mine, 'cross language and mem’ry's barriers...
Greetings, brother, selling wares down one street to another
some distant past orgasm has somehow made us brothers!
You too, I greet, the solemn judge, who ever strives to be just.
We both were once created by the very same pelvic thrust!

I embrace you, black skinned brother, who battles senseless hate
the split of an amoebae caused our lines to separate:
And you too, Jesus Christ, from where hot sun burns ever down
you too are my brother, even though your skin was brown
although your followers in Europe in error thought it pale.
Not so very long ago our ancestors had tails!

The host of my ancestors without an end amass
doubling by generations, geometrically into the past
to form by their relation an unbroken chain of life,
a thin, but strong, enduring but fragile thread of joy and strife,
which started to disperse at once when some atom joined with atom
by some strange cosmic accident, impossible to fathom
the first faint flutter of life back then came into be,
Oh, that unknowable ancient chance gave rise to me!
But if in some blind moment I think I'm at the top
my ancestors remind me, "Time's not come unto a stop!
You aren't the culmination of the path we blindly wend,
we spiral ever outward, never coming to an end.
From our primoidial amoebae, scarce a second now has passed,
Our race has hardly started its voyage along this path!
You only are the breath a baby takes when life begins:
you came, will go, a single link in a chain that never ends!"
Greetings, my forefathers, your time has run its track,
Courage mankind, my brothers, whether skin's white red or black --
The time-mirage which foully has left us torn apart
will finally rejoin us!

Meanwhile, as from time's start
you come, and go, links in a chain whose final distant part
we'll neither forge nor see. Persevere! Be brave of heart!

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