Posts Tagged ‘vertaalpryse’

Louis Esterhuizen. PEN Amerika maak hul vertaalpryse bekend

Thursday, August 8th, 2013


PEN Amerika het onlangs die wenners van hul vertaalpryse bekend gemaak. Uit nie minder nie as 180 inskrywings is daar uiteindelik op dertien projekte besluit wat deur dié finansiële meevaller gesteun gaan word. Ses hiervan is vir die vertaling van belangwekkende digters wêreldwyd.

Volgens die amptelike verklaring deur Suzanne Nossel, hoofdirekteur van PEN Amerika, die volgende: “This year, as in the past, the PEN/Heim Translation Fund plays a critical role in bringing important works of literature from around the world to an English-speaking audience through vivid and elegant translations that communicate not just words, but ideas and inspiration. The Fund has played a seminal role in promoting international literature in the United States and in enabling some of the globe’s most talented writers to reach audiences who have been informed and enlightened by their work. In so doing, the Fund helps advance PEN’s mission of bridging divisions through a shared appreciation of great literature.”

‘n Kort oorsig van die pryswenners is soos volg:

Daniel Borzutzky vir die Chileense digter Raúl Zurita se bundel El País de Tablas (The Country of Planks). Volgens Zurita was sy oogmerk met dié gedigte om ‘n vers te pleeg wat “as powerful as the pain that was delivered by the state” is. (Dié vertaling gaan deur Action Books uitgegee word.)  

Uit:”Villa Grimaldi Prison

This is how the chilean prisons were emerging    the snowy
peaks of the Andes were nothing but planks nailed to those barracks

In the middle of the ocean’s abyss    as if they had wanted with
their shredders to remind us of the infinite pain of the camps
the quarters   the infinite sheds where they killed us 

When the Pacific opened up and we carried one another 
we saw the stakes of a cordillera and then a dead sky
sinking into the slit of the sea until it became the final silence
that covers our remains    still nailed down    still broken    
our eyes still open     looking out from those barracks the
dead gaze of the ocean.  

Chloe Garcia Roberts vir haar vertaling van die negentieneeuse Sjinese digter Li Shangyin se Escalating Derangements of My Contemporaries. Dié boek sal deur New Directions uitgegee word.  

Not Poor: Indications

Thoroughbreds sighing.
Wax tears on candles.
Chestnut shells.
Lychee husks.
Stacks and heaps of money, rice.
Mother of pearl hairpins, abandoned.
Jargon of orioles, swallows.
Eddies of fallen blossoms.
Songs sung atop a tall building.
Books read aloud.
Sounds of grinding medicine, rolling tea.

Eleanor Goodman vir haar keur uit die digkuns van die kontemporêre Sjinese digter Wang Xiaoni. Die titel van dié keur, wat deur Zephy Press uitgegee gaan word, is Something Crosses My Mind.

Typhoon, No. 1

The night of the typhoon, the sky was full, the world destroyed.

From west to east, herds of black cattle rolled on their heads
the wind’s hoofs beat at the windows
everything on the ground rose to the sky.

The people were packed into the night
the night was packed into an exploding drum.
The wildly arrogant air
presented rolling tanks from another world.
There was no sign of resistance
that’s just the way the extraordinary happens.

Nog ‘n opwindende projek is Marilyn Hacker se vertaling van die Franse digter Jean-Paul de Dadelsen se bundel The Bridges of Budapest. De Dadelsen was ‘n tydgenoot van Albert Camus en Jean Monnet en het helaas eers na sy dood roem verwerf vir sy poësie.

Uit: The Great Ledger

He says to her : So you stayed with him ? Well, yes, she
Stayed with him,  got laid three times, of which the first
      Was spoiled for her
And the third spoiled by him. But who knows on what grounds.
That was part of her own service record. And by what right
Did he feel himself so magnanimous, so generous, for having forgiven her ?
      She belongs to no one.

I don’t belong to myself. I don’t know where I come from, I don’t know
What is marked down in my favor or against me
      In the great account book.
I am not my forgetfulness I am not my laziness and am not
My sluggishness.  But from the depths of my memory I am ashamed
I am ashamed I did not cry out against you
      Eternal One.

‘n Laaste projek waarop ek wil fokus, is Jennifer Hayashida se vertaling van die Sweedse debutant Athena Farrokhzad vir haar bundel Vitsvit.

My mother let bleach run through her syntax
On the other side of punctuation her language became whiter
than a winter in Norrland

My mother built us a future consisting of quantity of life
In the suburban basement she lined up canned goods
as if preparing for a war

In the evenings she searched for recipes and peeled potatoes
As if it was her history inscribed
in the Jansson’s temptation casserole

To think that I sucked at those breasts
To think that she put her barbarism in my mouth

My father said: Whose father are you rendering
My mother said: Whose mother are you rendering
My brother said: Whose brother is being referred to
My grandmother said: If you don’t finish chopping the vegetables soon there won’t be any dinner.

Nou ja, toe. Miskien is hier ‘n voorbeeld vir PEN Afrikaans om met soortgelyke inisiatiewe na vore te kom? Die statuur van ‘n bepaalde letterkunde lê immers nie net by die werke wat in daardie bepaalde taalgroep geproduseer word nie, maar ook in die hoeveelheid wêreldtekste wat in daardie taal beskikbaar gestel word … Of wat praat ek nou?