[I said to him—Just don’t throw me into that briar patch]

“Just don’t throw me into that briar patch.”

(Tales of Uncle Remus)

I said to him—Just don’t throw me into that briar patch:

this is my dear home, blossoming behind me.

Where each leaf trembles, there’s a rustling hush,

the berries are shot with black enamel and blue.

I said to him—Better burn me in the bonfire,

blue-gray smoke has already floated over by morning,

and a shrike sings in the thorny branches

in the briar patch, at the time of its dawning.

Better throw me into the water, because it tastes bitter,

like a berry with prickles and down below it’s the same sort of colors.

But in the briar patch fixated on a needle is a star,

None of the neighbors needs for now.

Ah, Br’er Fox, you’re nobody’s fool,

don’t be won over by such notions or ideas.

I’ll seek out whatever creatures make you drool,

I’ll lead them to your blackthorn lair.

I myself can’t go home—too sharp’s the thorn

lodged in my chest—my left paw aches.

Better watch out for the fine bonfire in your rear

and right there next to you, a splendid lake.

Translated by Daniel Weissbort