A strange fruit

Voilà un petit poème que je trouve vraiment magnifique...

Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black body swinging in theSouthern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant South,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh !

Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the win to suck,
For the sun to rot, for a tree to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.

Abel Meeropol, Strange Fruit (1939)