Robert Frost. Vertaling in Afrikaans

 

Versindaba kompetisie vir vertaalde gedigte (28)

 

Robert Frost. Vertaling van Engels in Afrikaans

  

Vra vir rose

 

’n Huis skynbaar sonder ’n huisvrou of meester,

Met deure nog slegs deur die wind toegestoot,

Die vloere vol rommel, vol glas en ou pleister;

Dié huis staan in ’n tuin vol outydse rose.

 

Ek loop daar verby in die skemer met Mary;

“Ek wonder,” sê ek, “wie hierdie rose besit.”

“O, vir haar ken jy nie,” kom die guitige antwoord,

“Maar ons sal moet vra as ons rose wil pluk.”

 

Ons hou hande vas want die aanddou is koud,

Dit is stil en gedemp in die rustige woud,

Vrypostig loop ons tot voor die oop deur

En klop aan by die eggo om te bedel vir rose.

 

“Ekskuus, is jy daar, mevrou Wie-jy-ookal-was?

“Dis Mary wat praat om te sê wat ons soek.

“Ekskuus, is jy daar? Kom uit, kom tog uit!

“Dit is al weer somer; ons twee kom vra van jou rose.

 

“As ek nou die ou digter Herrick kan aanhaal

met ’n spreekwoord wat elke jong meisie goed ken:

’n Blom ongepluk is ’n blom wat vergaan –

En wat sal ons wen as ons die rose laat staan?”

 

Ons vingers hou ons net so vas en vervleg

(wat maak dit tog saak wat sy van ons dink).

Gehul in diep mis straal sy ons toe en gun

ons met stilte die seën van haar rose.

 

 

 

Asking for roses

Robert Frost

 

 A house that lacks, seemingly, mistress and master,

With doors that none but the wind ever closes,

Its floors all littered with glass and with plaster;

It stands in a garden of old-fashioned roses.

 

I pass by the way in the gloaming with Mary;

“I wonder,” I say, “who the owner of those is.”

“Oh, no one you know,” she answers me airy,

“But one we must ask if we want any roses.”

 

So we must join hands in the dew coming coldly

There in the hush of the wood that reposes,

And turn and go up to the open door boldly,

And knock to the echoes as beggars for roses.

 

“Pray, are you within there, Mistress Who-were-you?”

“Tis Mary that speaks and our errand discloses.

“Pray, are you within there? Bestir you, bestir you!

“Tis summer arain; there’s two come for roses.

 

“A word with you, that of the singer recalling –

Old Herrick: a saying that every maid knows is

A flower unplucked is but left to the falling,

And nothing is gained by not gathering roses.”

 

We do not loosen our hands’ intertwining

(Not caring so very much what she supposes),

There when she comes on us mistily shining

And grants us by silence the boon of her roses.

 

Frost, Robert. 1971. The Road not Taken. A Selection of Robert Frost’s Poems – ed. Louis Untermeyer. New York: Henry Holt.

 

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