Willy, the black stoker from Djibouti
Every time he finished his night shift
He used to come to find me in my chamber, laughing
And he used to talk to me for many hours about strange things
He told me how they smoke hashish1 in Algiers
And how they inhale the white dust2 in Aden3, dancing
And later how they shout and how they soliloquise
When the dizziness surrounds them with bizarre dreams
He also told me that, one night when he was drunk, he saw
That he was riding the waves of the sea on a steed
And that behind him, mermaids with wings were running
"Once we go to Aden" he told me "you'll try some too!"
I gave him sweets and blades and razors as gifts
And told him that hashish kills the man
And then he broke into loud laughters
And lifted me up only with one hand
Inside his huge body, he had an innocent heart
One night, inside the bar Regina in Marseille
In order to protect me from a Spaniard
He was hit with an empty bottle on his head
One day we left him dry because of the fever
Up in the Far East, to burn, to melt
Oh, dear God of the blacks! Forgive the good Will
And give him, wherever he is, some of this white dust
1. Intoxicating drug derived from cannabis2. Cocaine3. A port city in Yemen