Versindaba kompetisie vir vertaalde gedigte (8)
Kahlil Gibran. Vertaling van Engels in Afrikaans. Vert. deur Bester Meyer.
Lied van die Siel
Kahlil Gibran
In die diepte van my siel is daar
ʼn woordlose lied wat leef
in die saadjie van my hart.
Dit weier om weg te smelt
saam met ink op perkament.
Dit verswelg toegeneentheid
in ʼn deursigtige mantel – en vloei –
maar nie oor my lippe nie.
Is hunkering vir dit moontlik?
Ek is bevrees dit sal vermeng
met aardse lug.
Vir wie sal ek dit sing? Dit woon
in die huis van my siel
skromend vir wrange luister.
As ek inkyk op my inner-oog
sien ek die skadu van haar skadu.
As ek my vingerpunte aanraak
voel ek haar vibrasie.
Die werke van my hande
slaan ag op dié Teenwoordigheid
soos ʼn meer die glinstering
van sterre reflekteer.
My trane openbaar dit
soos helder druppels dou
die geheime van ʼn
verwelkende roos openbaar.
Dit is ʼn lied gekomponeer
deur oordenking;
wat lewe kry deur die stilte;
wat vermy word deur geraas;
opgevou word deur die waarheid;
wat herhaal word deur drome;
verstaan word deur die liefde
en gesing word deur die siel.
Dit is die lied van liefde –
watter Kain of Esau kon dit sing?
Dit is geuriger as jasmyn –
watter stem kon dit tot slaaf maak?
Dit is hartsgebonde soos ʼn maagd se geheime –
watter snaar kon dit laat sidder?
Wie waag dit om die gedruis van die see
en die lied van die nagtegaal te herenig?
Wie waag dit om die jillende storm te vergelyk
met die suising van die suigeling?
Wie waag dit om dit wat bestem is
om deur die hart te praat, hardop te uiter?
Watter mens waag die singende stem
van die lied van God?
***
Song of the Soul
Kahlil Gibran
In the depth of my soul there is
A wordless song—a song that lives
In the seed of my heart.
It refuses to melt with ink on
Parchment; it engulfs my affection
In a transparent cloak and flows,
But not upon my lips.
How can I sigh it? I fear it may
Mingle with earthly ether;
To whom shall I sing it? It dwells
In the house of my soul, in fear of
Harsh ears.
When I look into my inner eyes
I see the shadow of its shadow;
When I touch my fingertips
I feel its vibrations.
The deeds of my hands heeds its
Presence as a lake must reflect
The glittering stars; my tears
Reveal it, as bright drops of dew
Reveal the secret of a withering rose.
It is a song composed by contemplation,
And published by silence,
And shunned by clamour,’
And folded by truth,
And repeated by dreams,
And understood by love,
And hidden by awakening,
And sung by the soul.
It is the song of love;
What Cain or Esau could sing it?
It is more fragrant than jasmine;
What voice could enslave it?
It is heartbound, as a virgin’s secret;
What string could quiver it?
Who dares unite the roar of the sea
And the singing of the nightingale?
Who dares compare the shrieking tempest
To the sigh of an infant?
Who dares speak aloud the words
Intended for the heart to speak?
What human dares sing in the voice
The song of God?
Bronverwysing:
Gibran, K. 1974. A Treasury of Kahlil Gibran. Mandarin Paperbacks. Vertaal uit Arabies in Engels deur Anthony Rizcallah Ferris.