Posts Tagged ‘Marieta McGrath vertaling’

Babette Deutsch. Vertaling in Afrikaans

Tuesday, January 19th, 2021

 

Versindaba kompetisie vir vertaalde gedigte (95)

 

Babette Deutsch. Vertaling van Engls in Afrikaans. Vert. deur Marieta McGrath.

 

Stilswye

 

Saam met jou is die stilswye soos

Die glimlag van ‘n kind wat droom:

Delikaat, net ‘n suggestie van die wonder,

Die sagte, stadige wonderwerk van rus.

Saam met jou is die stilswye soos

‘n Vriendelike vertrek vanuit ‘n gekletter

En malende skares na groen weivelde

Onder een of ander bollende blouborswolk

Of om saans op die sand vasgehou te word

Terwyl die gety ooprol en hemel met see

vervloei

Om die veraf, windgebolde seile te verskans

As dit donker roer aan die rand van die nag.

 

***

 

Silence

Babette Deutsch

 

Silence with you is like the faint delicious

Smile of a child asleep, in dreams unguessed:

Only the hinted wonder of its dreaming,

The soft, slow-breathing miracle of rest.

Silence with you is like a kind departure

From iron clangor and the engulfing crowd

Into a wide and greenly barren meadow,

Under the bloom of some blue-bosomed cloud;

Or like one held upon the sands at evening,

When the drawn tide rolls out, and the mixed

light

Of sea and sky enshrouds the far, wind-bellowed

Sails that move darkly on the edge of night.

 

Bronverwysing:

Deutsch, Babette. 1919. BANNERS. New York: George H. Doran Company (p.52).

 

 

Lucas Malan. Vertaling in Engels

Tuesday, January 19th, 2021

 

Versindaba kompetisie vir vertaalde gedigte (94)

 

Lucas Malan. Vertaling van Afrikaans in Engels. Vert. deur Marieta McGrath.

 

Wary

 

Where someone dies, the sky tears,

the hour gasps and sighs: it’s

past. A door opens, the walls tremble

and somewhere a bird will tumble –

 

The day makes room, unobtrusively,

and trees bow in contemplation, flee

into their earthiness, again turn green,

to line the shady lanes and fields.

 

You’d barely notice by the trees or sky

when someone dies, a room is made

vacant, when like a sheet the pre-dawn tears –

but listen how it happens everywhere:

 

***

 

Lugtig

Lucas Malan

 

Waar iemand doodgaan, skeur die lug,

snak die uur na asem en dit sug: ver-

by. ‘n Deur gaan oop, die mure skud

en iewers gaan ‘n voël neerstort

 

Die dag ruim plek in, ongemerk,

en bome buig in nabetragting, vlug

hul aardsheid binne, word weer groen

‘n laning langs ‘n landery of straat.

 

Jy sou dit skaars aan lug of bome merk

as iemand doodgaan, stiptelik ‘n bed ont-

ruim, die voordag soos ‘n laken skeur

maar luister hoe dit oral oor gebeur:

 

Bronverwysing:

Brink, André P. (Samesteller). Groot Verseboek. 2008. Kaapstad: Tafelberg (p. 898).

 

 

Lucas Malan. Vertaling in Engels

Tuesday, January 19th, 2021

 

Versindaba kompetisie vir vertaalde gedigte (93)

 

Lucas Malan. Vertaling van Afrikaans in Engels. Vert. deur Marieta McGrath.

 

Growing

 

It can’t be helped:

the years pile exponentially,

you bend, become more grounded

and tend towards the earth;

 

It’s just as well

you carry all those scars

and as time grows,

soften to decay;

 

how else

could we be made

unrecognisably humane?

 

***

 

Groei

Lucas Malan

 

Hoe ook al:

die jare stapel in kwadraat,

mens buig jou langsaam grondiger

en kry ‘n neiging aarde toe;

 

net so wel

dat jy die letsels daarvan dra

en al hoe buigsamer verval

in vergelykings met die tyd;

 

hoe anders

sou ons onherkenbaar slyt

tot afgeronde menslikheid?

 

Bronverwysing:

Brink, André P. (Samesteller). Groot Verseboek. 2008. Kaapstad: Tafelberg (p. 898)

 

 

Nini Bennet. Vertaling in Engels

Monday, January 11th, 2021

 

Versindaba kompetisie vir vertaalde gedigte (76)

 

Nini Bennet. Vertaling van Afrikaans in Engels. Vert. deur Marieta McGrath.

 

Scale

 

My mom is the drift

of the Dead Sea, the floating

shelf. Watertight, she holds

disintegrated bone,

scale, and shell; she has shown me

gravity’s salvation. My mom is tideless,

from her emanates

sediments of salt, the volatility

of living. I carry the deep,

the curator of treasure and bone

with me:

 

My mom has shown me a grounded

life.

 

***

 

Skaal

 

My ma is die rus

van die Dooie See, die gewiglose

skelf. Sy dra waterdig

aan gedisintegreerde dop,

skaal, en skulp; sy het my

die verlossing van swaartekrag

geleer. My ma is getyloos,

in haar adem die afset

van sediment, die vlugsout

van leef. Die bodem,

die kurator van skat en been

neem ek met my mee:

 

My ma het my die neerslag

van leef geleer.

 

 

Bronverwysing:

Bennett, Nini. 2019. Donkerwerk. Naledi. (p. 6)

 

 

Tom Gouws. Vertaling in Engels

Wednesday, December 30th, 2020

 

Versindaba kompetisie vir vertaalde gedigte (56)

 

Tom Gouws. Vertaling van Afrikaans in Engels. Vert. deur Marieta McGrath.

 

Apple of the eye

 

I’m a cave that goes around,

a bunch of creatures to me bound,

unaware of all that’s found

in my heart and kidney, throat and nose,

muscle, tissue, Lord, my toes!

intimately harbour fungus. unbeknownst,

bloodsucking creatures feed on me,

the female mosquito and the flea

and all this, Lord, I hope you see,

I could endure, even

viruses and worms, clandestine

parasites in the intestine,

but I vehemently object

to mites behind my eyelids having sex,

unseen, before my eyes, without respect.

you trust these relatives of snakes

and scorpions to never forsake

their watch on me, while they make

egg upon egg like apples, true to your laws

to fill the earth. two days later everything crawls

with larvae and empty cocoons.

 

embarrassed, it dawns

on me how God lets my trifles lie,

my faith and transformation so infantile,

purely because he endures me in the apple of his eye.

 

***

 

Oogappel

Tom Gouws

 

onwetend dra ek ʼn grot vol diere

in en op my rond. in my hart en niere,

in my neus en keel, weefsel, spiere,

my tande en skaamhaar, Here so knus

intiem huisves ek salig onbewus

amebes en kolonies fungus.

oningelig val ek ten prooi

van die bloedsuier en die vlooi.

dit alles Here, verstaan my mooi,

sou ek kon verduur, selfs miskien

virusse, ingewandewurms, klandestiene

parasiete wat ek nie kan sien

nie; maar ek maak ten sterkste beswaar

teen die myte wat U in my ooglede bewaar

en sowaar onsienlik voor my oë laat paar.

die familie van slang en skerpioen vertrou

U om my onbeskaamd in die oog te hou.

hulle lê lustig eiers soos appels, getrou

aan u gebod om te vermenigvuldig. twee

dae later wemel dit van larwes en leë

kokonne.

 

met dit alles skrik ek my verleë

toe ek insien hoe God my beuselagtighede doog,

die kleinsieligheid van my transformasie, my geloof,

bloot omdat Hy my verduur in die appel van sy oog.

 

Bronverwysing:

Brink, André P. (Samesteller). Groot Verseboek. 2008. Kaapstad: Tafelberg (pp. 1076-1077)

 

Maya Angelou. Vertaling in Afrikaans

Tuesday, December 15th, 2020

 

Versindaba kompetisie vir vertaalde gedigte (49)

 

Maya Angelou. Vertaling van Engels in Afrikaans. Vert. deur Marieta McGrath.

 

Wanneer groot bome val

 

Wanneer groot bome val,

sidder die klippe op ‘n duisend heuwels,

lê leeus laag

in die lang gras,

boemel selfs die olifante

na veiligheid.

 

Wanneer groot bome val

in die woud,

keer alles wat klein is in hulself,

hul sinne

verby vrees verstomp.

 

Wanneer groot siele sterf,

word die lug om ons

lig, raar, steriel.

Ons haal asem, vlugtig.

Ons oë sien, vlugtig,

met pynlike klaarheid.

Herinnering, skielik verskerp,

doen ondersoek,

kou aan sagte woorde

ongesê,

beloofde wandelinge

nooit onderneem nie.

 

Groot siele sterf en

wat vir ons werklik was,

verlaat ons.

Ons siele,

afhanklik van hul

koestering,

krimp en verskrompel.

Ons verstand, verlig

en toegelig deur hul

lig,

val weg.

Ons word nie soveel waansinnig

as gereduseer tot die onuitspreeklike afsydigheid

van donker, koue

grotte nie.

 

En wanneer groot siele sterf,

sal daar na ‘n tyd weer vrede blom,

geleidelik, maar altyd

sporadies. Ruimtes vul

met ‘n soort

sussende elektriese vibrasie.

Ons sinne, herstel, maar nooit weer

dieselfde nie, fluister, fluister in ons ore:

Hulle was. Hulle was.

Ons kan wees. Ons kan wees, ons kan

beter wees. Want hulle was.

 

 

***

 

 

When great trees fall

Maya Angelou

 

When great trees fall,

rocks on distant hills shudder,

lions hunker down

in tall grasses,

and even elephants

lumber after safety.

 

When great trees fall

in forests,

small things recoil into silence,

their senses

eroded beyond fear.

 

When great souls die,

the air around us becomes

light, rare, sterile.

We breathe, briefly.

Our eyes, briefly,

see with

a hurtful clarity.

Our memory, suddenly sharpened,

examines,

gnaws on kind words

unsaid,

promised walks

never taken.

 

Great souls die and

our reality, bound to

them, takes leave of us.

Our souls,

dependent upon their

nurture,

now shrink, wizened.

Our minds, formed

and informed by their

radiance,

fall away.

We are not so much maddened

as reduced to the unutterable ignorance

of dark, cold

caves.

 

And when great souls die,

after a period peace blooms,

slowly and always

irregularly. Spaces fill

with a kind of

soothing electric vibration.

Our senses, restored, never

to be the same, whisper to us.

They existed. They existed.

We can be. Be and be

better. For they existed.


Bronverwysing:

Angelou, Maya. 1990. I shall not be moved. New York: Random House.