Posts Tagged ‘Archipelago Press’

Louis Esterhuizen. Hugo Claus binnekort in Engels beskikbaar

Thursday, August 29th, 2013

 

Goeie nuus is dat Archipelago Press pas bekend gemaak het dat hulle ‘n keur uit Hugo Claus se gedigte in Engels gaan publiseer. Die gedigte in Even Now is deur die bekroonde vertaler David Colmer uit Nederlands vertaal en sal in November beskikbaar wees.

Volgens die aankondiging die volgende: “Claus’s poetry has been marked by an uncommon mix of intelligence and passion, given expression in a medium over which he has such light-fingered control that art becomes invisible […]Perhaps Belgium’s leading figure of postwar Dutch literature, Claus has long been associated with the avant-garde: these poems challenge conventional bourgeois mores, religious bigotry, and authoritarianism with visceral passion.”

En natuurlik wemel dit van lofbetuigings ten opsigte van Claus se gedigte:

“Claus rages against the decay of the physical self while desire remains untamed. From the beginning, his poetry has been marked by an uncommon mix of intelligence and passion, given expression in a medium over which he has such light-fingered control that art becomes invisible.”

— J. M. Coetzee

“Nobody could write so rampantly about the wild veracity of sensual love for women and life than Hugo Claus. To read him is to be shot into verbal ecstasy. Fortunately these translations do justice to so much of this.”

— Antjie Krog

“Astonishing book. Half an hour into reading it I already feel that I have known this poet all my life—and I’d never heard of him before. There is a richness of feeling, exactness of imagery, tender skepticism of the body and its wants—I found myself thinking of Donne, Sterne, Cendrars, Bukowski, Celine all at once—how can he do that? Colmer’s translation is uncanny, feels as if every word is the one the poet intended, always yields a sense of Yes, here it is! Hugo Claus seems suddenly a permanent part of our poetic landscape opened at last.”

— Robert Kelly

Wat eweneens interessant is, is die fotoblad wat beskikbaar gestel is op Archipelago Press se webtuiste. Gaan kyk gerus; daar is ‘n hele aantal minder bekende foto’s van dié befaamde skrywer wat bekyk kan word.

Een van sy gedigte in vertaling volg hieronder.

***

Chicago

 

Under the crossword of concrete beams,

between the peroxide bitches

and the gastric ulcer advertisements,

besieged by the bells of salvation’s armies

contaminated by soot and sugar

and humiliated by insulted Negroes,

a greyer desire awakes

in every desire.

And whiter gentlemen greet me,

a stranger in their nest,

a friend and fellow pest.

There is reason here to hang,

reason enough, no one gives a dang

between forgetting and release.

A verse from Luke won’t help you here,

nor a leather dragon on your back

nor chewing on the almond herb.

I’ll be replaced here soon

by a mouth full of grit.

 

© Hugo Claus (Uit: Even Now, 2013: Archipelago Press)

Vertaal  deur David Colmer

Omslag

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Louis Esterhuizen. Die dawerende stiltes van Yannis Ritsos

Thursday, July 11th, 2013

 

Oor Archipelago Press het ek al dikwels geskryf aangesien hulle loshande een van my gunsteling-uitgewerye is; in hoofsaak vanweë die magdom internasionale digkuns wat hulle in vertaling aan die poësieliefhebber bied … Nou het hulle verrassend genoeg eergister bekend gemaak dat hulle ‘n nuwe webblad op die internet gevestig het , en getrou aan Archipelago se manier van doen, is dit ‘n uiters opwindende tuiste vir die liefhebber van digkuns wêreldwyd. Nie net is daar heelwat blootstelling aan hul eie publikasies nie, maar daar is ook ‘n weblog met allerhande nuusbrokkies, plus ‘n volledige lys van skakels na ander belangwekkende webtuistes … Indrukwekkend, inderdaad.

En sommer met die intrapslag lees ek ‘n oorsig oor een van my gunstelingdigters, die Griekse digter Yannis Ritsos, raak. Dié betrokke inskrywing handel oor Rachel Hadas se bespreking van Ritsos wat in die Times Literary Supplement van Mei-maand verskyn het …

“The Greek poet Yannis Ritsos, interned on one prison island or another in the late 1940s and early 50s, wrote poems recording his experiences in these bleak settings. Beautifully edited and translated by Karen Emmerich and Edmund Keeley as Diaries of Exile, his journal-like verses record soccer games, meals, the late arrival of newspapers, moonlight, sheep bells,” skryf Hadas.

Afgesien van die treffende gedig wat sy aanhaal, is daar ook uittreksels uit Ritsos se dagboek, waaronder die volgende: “… this long silence. I don’t know what’s the matter with me. All winter I have been trying to discipline myself – ‘Empty the mind’, as they say in the handbooks, ‘concentrate on one thing, any thing, the snowflake, the granite it falls upon, the planet risen opposite, etc, etc’ – and failing, failing. Quicksands of leisure!” Met haar kommentaar as slotsom: “’Quicksands of leisure’ elegantly evokes the abundance of empty time to be found in a surprising number of venues from waiting rooms to rocks in Vermont fields to the island of Leros. The silence and the emptiness are waiting for us. The open notebook may beckon, or we may drop our pen. If we have a book to read, so much the better. But first it seems necessary to face the blankness of the page or the sky – to feel, as Ritsos puts it, the silence settling within us.”

Op die Poetry Foundation se webtuiste kan ‘n uitvoerige bespreking van Ritsos se lewe en werk gevind word. Ook is daar ‘n webtuiste ter ere van dié besonderse digter waar heelwat stof oor hom gevind kan word.

Vir jou leesplesier volg twee van Ritsos se korter gedigte.

En welgedaan, Archipelago … ‘n Mens kan kwalik wag vir al die lekkerleesure wat op dié webblad geniet gaan word!

***

Clay: 32

 

So many twisting tasks
he completely lost
his way.
Perhaps they asked about him—
then went searching
to find him.
Dark gave way to dawn.
Soon it will rain.
No one is looking for him.

(c) Yannis Ritsos (Athens—January 19, 1978. Uit: Clay (1980) [Collected Poems:1980)

 *

Clay: 37

Metal on metal
hammer on anvil
wheel on rail.
In between each clang
is a bird
not yet killed
coming from the other side.

(c) Yannis Ritsos (Athens—January 20, 1978. Uit: Clay (1980) [Collected Poems:1980)