Poolse digkuns

Weens die teenwoordigheid van die Groot Vyf in hul digkuns en die impak wat dié vyf op die wêreldpoësie het, word die Poolse digkuns allerweë beskou as van die belangrikste en mees dinamiese op die ondermaanse. Maar hoe lyk hul “jonger stemme”? Wie gaan by dié vyf reuse (Szymborska, Herbert, Rözewics, Milosz en Zagayevsky) oorneem?

Daarom dat my oë op aandag gespring het toe ek op 3:AM Magazine se webtuiste ‘n onderhoud met Agnieska Mirahina raaklees, want volgens die inleidende paragraaf is dié jonge dame een van die belangrike “nuwe stemme”:  “The Poles have endured with a poetic sophistication that is marked throughout their history as a nation. Where others countries are failing to produce poets to match their semi-deified figures of resistance under fascism or dictatorial-communism, Poland’s vibrant student communities and reading culture has spawned the beginning of another generation of notable poetic talent. Agnieska Mirahina is an indelible voice amongst them – offhand, brutal, immediate and yet wholly female, sensitive in her barrato.”

Hieronder volg enkele van haar uitsprake:

Op die vraag na hoe die jonger generasie Poolse digters tans oor die veranderde omstandighede in hul land voel: “I will begin by stating this; that I belong to the generation, which has no recollection of that change, or who posses only ‘misty memories’. At the time of the Round Table discussions I was 4 years old. Only in one of my texts do I refer directly to political transformations. It’s a poem entitled ‘Zlomiarze biorá wszystko‘ (‘Scrapers take all’), where an age of steel is replaced by a scrap yard.”

In reaksie op ‘n vraag na die tema’s in haar gedigte en haar werkswyse: “I like to dehumanize my texts. I treat the poems as art of persuasion, phenomenon of language, not as ‘self-expression’. During the writing process I make selections and simultaneously let myself be carried away by words, and let them inspire me. The words are always ahead of me – I am only standing at the gate. Beside, the computer plays the key role – there is a difference between writing on paper and typing on a word processor application. I have more to say, that now I couldn’t write any poem down on paper. Only the computer screen has this hypnotizing influence on me, and this hypnosis my work is created as text in that kind of electronic form.”

Dit is egter haar antwoord op die vraag na hoe sy haarself posisioneer ten opsigte van haar beroemde voorgangers in die Poolse digkuns, wat my sprakeloos gelaat het: “Here I have to admit, that I am not falling for poetry, I almost don’t read it. I write, but I don’t read. I do read prose though, but in fact I couldn’t write anything in prose. Poetry as a style and the poem as a technique correspond very well with chaos, which I have in my head, responding quite well to the way my thoughts are streaming – chaotically, with many metaphors and limbs, which are susceptible to change. Chaos might be disturbing in everyday life, but for a poet, it is a blessing.” En dan weer in ‘n opvolgende vraag: “I don’t read poetry, because it is prose which inspires me. […] The important things for me are poetic qualities like: lightness, fluctuation, multiple association, flowing from connotations, from connectivity of words. In short the syntax and phonetics of a poem; its sound. A poem is supposed to have at least a partial melody. It is a slogan, is it not? Some kind of magic, art of persuasion. Slogans are part of the so called ‘oral residuum’ of our culture, its attributes are opposite of those of another- literacy.”

En ek is bevrees dat – geoordeel aan die hand van die gedig wat ek as voorbeeld hieronder plaas – dit duidelik waarneembaar is, want, waaragtig as hierdie ‘n voorbeeld van die “nuwe geslag” Poolse digters is, is my poëtiese orgaan óf in sy maai in afgestomp, óf een van die vernaamste digkunste ter wêreld staar ‘n onverkwiklike vervlakking in die gesig. Nee wat. Volgens my is hierdie hoegenaamd nie verse waarop jy ‘n internasionale reputasie kan (of wil) vestig nie.

Aan die positiewe kant: indien ons dié jong talent vergelyk met ons eie ontluikende digters, kan ‘n mens nie anders as om weereens te besef dat ons eie beskeie digkuns na alle waarskynlikheid besonder goed vergelyk met die bestes ter wêreld nie … (Dieselfde gedagte het by my opgekom toe ek in ‘n vroeëre Nuuswekker oor die jong Noorweegse digter, Endre Ruset, berig het.)

Nietemin, nog gedigte van Agnieska Mirahina kan hier gelees word.

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Vanoggend is daar ‘n paar besonderse plasings waaraan jy jou kan verlekker, naamlik nuwe gedigte deur Daniel Hugo en Hennie Meyer, en nuwe blog-inskrywings deur Desmond Painter en Jo Prins.

Mooi bly.

LE

 

swastika

she has a swastika on her belly and a worm in her heart
her eyes shine only when she fights or loves
there’s nothing romantic about it
besides, she’s bored
or she’s asleep, dreaming she has a swastika
on her belly and a worm in her heart

her god is a cynic
her god a philosopher, a saint, a healer
who will make you feel
because that girl is a typhoon, that girl is the sun
and I? I am the king of suns
the setting of my only sun will be divine
it will be as it should, and of its own accord
my hand will slip into my pants

renounced
before the revolution sweeps away and robespierre
castrated on the guillotine, the third man of the play
I, cynic god, promise
when done fucking your other girlfriend
into a constellation of stars
I will change her

 

© Agnieska Mirahina