Digterlike kerswense …

Kerssangers

Kerssangers

Carol Ann Duffy, poet laureate van die Britse digkuns, het ‘n aantal digters genader met die versoek om ‘n kerslied ter viering van vanjaar se kersgety te skryf. Al dié bydraes kan nou op The Guardian se webtuiste gelees word.

Met haar inleiding tot die gedigte, het Duffy kortliks verwys na bepaalde klassieke gedigte wat met verloop van jare getoonset is en onlosmaaklik deel van die skat van Britse kersliedere geword het. Uiteraard hoop sy dat dieselfde met die bydraes tot hierdie projek van haar sal gebeur: “Carols, according to the 1928 edition of The Oxford Book of Carols, are ‘simple, hilarious, popular and modern’. They are a kind of folk song where direct poetry and accessible music eagerly meet. The oldest of our carols date from the 15th century and ‘give voice to the common emotions of healthy people in language that can be understood’. I hope that by this time next year some of these sparkling new poems for carols will have been set to music.”

Hieronder volg enkele van die gedigte. Geniet hulle.

***

Vanoggend is daar net een nuwe bydrae om oor te rapporteer en dit is Andries Bezuidenhout wat skryf oor amusante mistastings rondom die kwessie van spelling- en taalgebruik wat onlangs in Beeld verskyn het.

Ten slotte wil ons aan al ons gereelde medewerkers en ook lesers van hierdie webblad ‘n besonderse kersviering toewens. Mag hierdie feestyd alles wees en bied wat jy graag vir jou en jou geliefdes sou wou begeer.

Nuuswekker hervat weer Maandag.

Mooi bly.

LE

The Bee Carol
Carol Ann Duffy

Silently on Christmas Eve,
the turn of midnight’s key;
all the garden locked in ice –
a silver frieze –
except the winter cluster of the bees.

Flightless now and shivering,
around their Queen they cling;
every bee a gift of heat;
she will not freeze
within the winter cluster of the bees.

Bring me for my Christmas gift
a single golden jar;
let me taste the sweetness there,
but honey leave
to feed the winter cluster of the bees.

Come with me on Christmas Eve
to see the silent hive –
trembling stars cloistered above –
and then believe,
bless the winter cluster of the bees.

***

Carol
Fleur Adcock

Carry the child at ease in the womb,
lulled in a cradle of bone and sinew:
a winter child with an escort of songbirds;
a summer child for a winter home.

Carry the child content in your arms.
Carry the child high on your shoulders,
tall as a candle: a radiant torch,
a solar-powered lamp to light a dark room.

Call the child to be dandled with rhymes,
livened with drum-talk, cuddled and calmed
with flutes and fiddles, anthems and psalmody.
Welcome the child with a sky full of chimes.

***

Happy Christmas
Frieda Hughes

At Halloween the Christmas baubles
Already decorate the stores,
Ignoring guilt as high as corbels
Shoppers stalk the shopping floors.

The birth of Christ is pushed aside
Not aided by the fear his name
Might irritate the shopping public
And distract their shopping aim.

But there is no gift worth more
Than our company – it’s given free
To those we love, more precious than
Any gift beneath a Christmas tree.

***

@ The Guardian 

 

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