Few were the questions Willy's skull drilling,
but one would have made any white man gasp,
and when that question gripped hold of Willy
the brush just dropped out of Willy's grasp.
And so it once happened,
just when it arose
in his head, the cigar king Henry Clay
was paid a visit by the most grandiose
of sugar kings
whiter than clouds on a sunny day.
I beg your pardon, Mr. Bragg-er!
Why is it that sugar, though ever so white,
should be made by a black-skinned nigger?
That black cigar doesn't go with your whiskers.
It's fit for white whiskers on skin that is black.
And if you've a liking for coffee and sugar,
be pleased to make sugar yourself, Mister Bragg!
The Negro sniffed with his nose hard-battered,
then picked up his brush daily bread to earn.
How could he know
that with such a matter
With such a matter...
...you apply to Moscow,
to Comintern?
LENIN
Workers of all countries
and the oppressed peoples of the world
UNITE!
THE END
Translation based on Dorian Rottenberg (1991)