What is a shadow?
The poet Les Sandral was in Africa talking to village shamans, to storytellers around fires (Africa with such sights is fading into memory), and sprang up with an intention to dance and jump - the shadow.
The fire, giving birth to many shadows, which, when extinguished and turned to ashes, have a sacred connection to the fading life. Intentions and spirits of the past will haunt the present and will continue into the future. The elusive, constantly shifting shadow will appear whenever there is light and fire. And the storyteller gives it life.
--Marcia Brown
[US]Marcia Brown/Texts Yan Xu/Translation/Nanhai Publishing Company
? Contents
In the firelight, in the moonlight, in the light, as long as there is light, there are shadows, and as long as there is fire, there are shadows. The shadow keeps jumping and dancing, like a living spirit. In the ancient African culture, in the African oral literature, the shadow does have a life and its own story.
? Marcia? Brown's translation of the French poet Blaise? Sandral's poem of the same name to create this book, she uses silhouettes and collage to present the imagery of shadows, and uses simple, dark colors as a base for the stories by the African forest fires, with sharp images and deep meanings that reach the height of expression.
? One critic said that if he had to pick the world's top ten picture books, he would include The Shadow and rank it at the top.
Graphic Sharing
The eye has no shadow,
All the children of the moon and the sun,
The earth, the water, the air, and the fire,
have no shadow,
and the shadows have no shadow of themselves.
The shadow lives in the forest.
It comes out at night and wanders around the fire.
It also likes to blend in with the dancing crowd.
So the shadow is both a prowler and a dancer.
But the shadow is mute; it does not speak, it only listens.
It slips over and stays close behind the storyteller,
and when the last of the fire is out, it returns to the forest.
But the shadow does not sleep; it keeps looking.
If you suddenly open your eyes while you are sleeping and the shadow is there,
it has long since sneaked back, like a thief, and is watching you closely.
The eye doesn't have a shadow,
but it sees that the shadow is stirring the embers until the wood in the fire noiselessly crumbles and falls to ash.
Nor were the ashes shadowless.
The shadow was blind because its eyes became two small pinches of ash.
So when all the fires went out, the shadow became blind.
It couldn't see anything, and it stumbled and stumbled and stumbled, and its arms stretched out so far, trying to grab something, trying to hold on and not let go.
The body wobbled, and when it ran, it fell.
It bends in two like a beggar to zap to grab a stick or a cane.
But it does not call out, it does not call anyone.
It has no voice.
On the night road the shadow is always bumping around,
being torn to pieces, falling over and over,
each time falling solidly to the ground,
but it doesn't cry out, it has no voice.
A shadow is a fall,
and people say it's a mother, too,
the mother of all crawling animals, all wriggling animals.
For as long as the sun is up, there are shadowed nationals everywhere,
loosening, darting, elongating, churning, expanding, and also coalescing,
like serpents, scorpions, and worms.
So it is said,
that when a man wakes up from sleep he should watch his shadow, and beware not to tread on it when he stands up.
It may sting or bite!
But the shadow says nothing.
It has no voice.
The shadow is scary, but you don't have to be afraid.
It's not death, that's obvious,
because it's there every morning and never says a word,
whereas death yells when it comes.
Also, Shadow never asks for anything.
She has no longings.
Despite this, be careful!
For though the shadow has no voice,
it is like an echo,
that can cast a spell on you, wishing you well, or cursing you badly.
It is a masterful trickster.
It laughs at you behind your back.
It learns from you and tricks you.
It hides in the mask.
During the day,
the shadow is full of life,
it undulates with the green grass,
it curls up at the foot of the trees,
it runs at full speed with the wild beasts,
it builds its nests behind the ears of the elephants,
it rests on the rocks,
and it swims and plays with the fish.
It follows others everywhere, even into battle.
A shadow is a shadow.
It doesn't need a costume, it doesn't need a tattoo,
the shadow of a zebra, without stripes.
A shadow is magic,
and you'd better not get too close to see it.
Is it to your left or right? In front or behind? Above or below?
At noon, shadows are everywhere.
By evening, the shadow stretches out -
There's no hole it doesn't fill; there's no mound, no hill, that it doesn't put together in pairs!
It even sticks to your footprints.
It lies on the paths where men walk,
it blocks all the ways.
No one can get through,
because no one can push it out of the way, it's too heavy.
Yes, the shadow is too heavy - when darkness comes.
Neither the hawk nor the vulture can lift it.
They try their best to soar as soon as they can, but it's no use.
Their shadows swooped left and flashed right, and like a clumsy bat they fell heavily to the ground.
These raptors of the air fell with their shadows, exhausted.
No one can defeat the shadow.
Go home,
light a fire,
and once again, voila - the shadow!
What is a shadow?
In the crackling coals,
Is it the spark?
It lights up!
The Mars has no shadow.
The eye has no shadow.
But the shadow is in the eye.
It is the pupil!
Every breath brings it to life.
It is the playroom.
It is the dance.