NP van Wyk Louw. Vertaling in Engels

Grafika deur Niccy Miles

Two and eighty years


After so many years I dare bring homage

to your proud heart, to your pride:

dare say that you (you) my beloved,

three or ten small Sistine choirs in me sing


Before, earlier: your hatred against my pride,

when your own I-mushroom in you grew

more about Thomas than chastity I knew

before this holy homage here did grow.




St Peter


A jackal digs into the snow

he speckles red against the white

and starts up, listens, stiff ears upright

to digging somewhere-in-the-yard.


My fatherland, my dry bleak fatherland

something longs that olives in you grow:

that all turn Latinised, small

and tiny chalk-white churches there may stand.


The jackal digs into the snow,

a little sober white he kicks

behind his buttocks out.

And Deaf-Pete keeps on digging.


– N.P. van Wyk Louw uit Tristia, 1962 (vert. Helize van Vuuren, April 2019)


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