Posts Tagged ‘vertalings deur bester meyer’

Breyten Breytenbach. Vertaling in Engels

Friday, August 30th, 2019

Breyten Breytenbach. Tr. by/Vertaal deur Bester Meyer uit Afrikaans  in Engels

 

4.6 the poem on journey

 

on now-a-days

and now-a-nights

I take the bird in my head on journey

and I do not know if she will make it

alive to the other side

 

be calm, I would say-

I know that the coop is confined

and your wings raw from scraping

against the sides

 

but do not tripple like that:

you are confusing me

with the words –

I know that there is not much food

in the little bowl of memories

and that your wounds will become infected

 

but see, you are the poem

which I am yet to write

I am saving you from the fatiguing flight, you see

 

once you would have soared freely

over this ocean

with the wind to lift you on high

until the sun of the land

would vanish into eternity

 

but that was when you were not blind

and when you did not yet come looking

for my hand

 

because you are my unwritten line of flight

bird

and if death should be in the motion

then I shall carefully free you

from the little cage of my head

to fondle over the broken corpse

and coo:

look, I hold you on high to smell

the wind

look, I have written you until here

at our destination

look, we are home

at now-a-days

and now-a-nights

 

 *

 

6.7 the face in the mirror

 

it has been written there: thoughts

in order to be

that which movement is

must be compared here

over the level plains

where the heart

mirrors

 

the environment: impulse

what shudder is

must be there

for the cognisant

heart to know

that which is given

is to live suspended

 

because even when there: is nothing

in the glass

the moon is still there

ridden hollowed-back in the black

void’s sizzling reflection

like a metaphor which can never

freely exist outside the poem

 

but moon-written: erected

to go further

with the sails of stone

forever underway

to the sentient-phantom’s

tracks in the old unknown

harbours of glass

 

my sister, my fiancé: the need

to be able to console you

like a man extend

the moon-rose

of his love to a woman

is to be the incurable wound

of being begotten

in order to journey: to gain

on the stillness

over the dreaming

landscape of our life

as long as there is a south:

a season’s light

with cloud tongues

 

to nestle communion’s

motion over mountains

and doves with the cheese

and little word-bowls

on the evening tables

to sacrifice another nine year-rings

as rhyming-strings right before your eyes

 

 

[All poems above were published in Afrikaans in op weg na kû Breyten Breytenbach Human & Rousseau, 2019. Translated by Bester Meyer.]

Breyten Breytenbach. Vertaling in Engels

Wednesday, August 28th, 2019

Breyten Breytenbach. Vertaal deur Bester Meyer uit Afrikaans in Engels

 

6.11 Hopper Hotel

 

like a niggard is possessive

so too am I over every place

wherever I come which may be suitable

for the exiting voyage to the star-well void

of pebbles and crickets

 

(then

here-now

here-after

both times without number

but grind

will you be ground

until one times one is two)

 

for a long time I fondled with the endgame

like a suckling poem in the cheek:

fancied that the time of passing would come

in a dirty boarding-house

somewhere in a forsaken industrial area

within earshot-edge of the ocean’s scales and shells

where glutted rats rummage on the world’s waste,

with the landlady a measured/hollowed/retired whore –

 

to be there

preferably by new moon as a final casting to that on the other side

which could neither be understood nor echoed

and which I always wanted to experience as the truth

(me as well: you are oppressing the lucency of a teardrop in vain) –

taking to one’s heels

bedstead-naked in the kip

of some other man’s worn-out sheets

quenching the breath

 

until here I had to come in order to perceive

that to wait anonymous in the factitiousness

of a luxurious seaside resort

can also make do for this idling emptied-word

from fullness’ existence

 

until now

where the chamberlains smile as if they know me

because they have read the secrets of the night’s journey

and we would as if sharing a language of people

that comes from afar out of a world’s completeness

(to always die away)

and therefore enable the venus-hide of an ocean full of moon memories’

grinding and partitioning

to be entered

 

 

7.7

 

all that at any time existed

all that at any time lived

all that make the void shiver

to leave a mark

for the evading

of the breath of always

and will therefore be forever

for the only way to remember life

beyond its grasp

is to secure it safely

beneath the canvas(sing) of moonforget –

every breath of air grass-blade mantis cloud

bird-song cloud pencil song

tongue and cloud clan

my brother bumpkin, is buddha

 

all that bleeds into buddha(be)(ing)

is pumpkin-moon

and you are only (an) awakening

to go below

to go above

in this life

and thus to keep on shivering in death

 

you are allowed to cry

for everything cries

in the silence of being

you are allowed to ripple outwards

an enter the singingly intimate non-being

 

therefore: should you come across brother

buddha on the way to Kû:

 

put him to death

with all the love

of your dying-being

 

and eat!  that sweet pumpkin

 

[All poems above were published in Afrikaans in op weg na kû Breyten Breytenbach Human & Rousseau, 2019. Translated by Bester Meyer.]