Derek Walcott wen belangrike prys

Derek Walcott

Derek Walcott

Dit is gister bekend gemaak dat Derek Walcott, wat die Nobelprys vir Letterkunde in 1992 gewen het, pas bekroon is met die gesogte T.S. Eliot-poësieprys vir die beste digbundel wat in 2010 in Engeland en Ierland verskyn het. Dié toekenning is aan hom gemaak op grond van sy bundel White Egrets wat verlede jaar by Faber & Faber verskyn het. Onder die onsuksesvolle kandidate op die kortlys was daar gesiene digters soos Seamus Heaney en Simon Armitage.

Die prysgeld van £15,000 is tydens ‘n spesiale geleentheid deur T.S. Eliot se weduwee, Valerie, aan hom oorhandig.

Volgens Anne Stevenson, voorsitter van die beoordelaarskomitee is Walcott se bundel “moving and technically flawless”. “It took us not very long to decide that this collection was the yardstick by which all the others were to be measured,” het sy bygevoeg. “These are beautiful lines; beautiful poetry. […] It is a complete book from first to last; each poem belongs completely. […]  He is a very great poet – one of the finest poets writing in English.”

En ja, natuurlik was dit soos salf op sy wonde omrede hy hom twee jaar gelede as kandidaat vir die pos van Professor in Poetry by Oxford moes onttrek het nadat gerugte van seksuele teistering jeens hom bekend gemaak is deur van die ander kandidate in die wedloop om Brittanje se tweede mees invloedryke posisie.

Gaan lees gerus die volledige berig op The Guardian se webtuiste.

Nog ‘n besonderse leesstuk is Sarah Crown se bespreking van White Egrets.

Vir jou leesplesier volg Walcott se bekende gedig “A city’s death by fire” onder aan vanoggend se Nuuswekker.

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Sedert gister het een blog bygekom en dit is Andries Bezuidenhout s’n waarin hy skryf oor die argitektuur van bankgeboue in plattelandse dorpe. ‘n Fassinerende stuk wat maak dat ek nooit ooit weer op dieselfde manier na geboue gaan kan kyk nie … En dan is daar ook gisteraand nuwe verse van Jelleke Wierenga, Zandra Bezuidenhout en Joan Hambidge in hul onderskeie gedigtekamers geplaas.

Lekker lees. Die week is amper verby.

Mooi bly.

LE 

 

A city’s death by fire

After that hot gospeller has levelled all but the churched sky,
I wrote the tale by tallow of a city’s death by fire;
Under a candle’s eye, that smoked in tears, I
Wanted to tell, in more than wax, of faiths that were snapped like wire.
All day I walked abroad among the rubbled tales,
Shocked at each wall that stood on the street like a liar;
Loud was the bird-rocked sky, and all the clouds were bales
Torn open by looting, and white, in spite of the fire.
By the smoking sea, where Christ walked, I asked, why
Should a man wax tears, when his wooden world fails?
In town, leaves were paper, but the hills were a flock of faiths;
To a boy who walked all day, each leaf was a green breath
Rebuilding a love I thought was dead as nails,
Blessing the death and the baptism by fire.

© Derek Walcott

 

 

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