Breyten Breytenbach. Vertaling in Engels
Friday, September 17th, 2021
Breyten Breytenbach. Vertaling van Afrikaans in Engels. Vert.deur Waldemar Gouws
the incomer
breath owns nothing/ and is owned by nothing/
and is nothing’s ship filled with land seekers
suppose that this you are now trying to write
this which floats on these words
as upon a dark mirror
is a dream –
suppose that boat
in the darklight hour when everything has been moored
in the eternity of awakening to form
is letting the moorings slip one by one
to drop with a gasp into obliteration –
and the ship beginning to glide noiselessly
between bank and bank
down and down the canal
passing through a beingscape still asleep
however unrestful as it is –
on deck so wet as if from tears
and in the hold down below the water’s level
you are imagining all of the comparisons
like keelhauled desires
that were recouped in the motion of recognition –
the loves and the partings
the beasts and the moths
the towers of flame
on distant high landmarks encircling the heart
and voices and voices singing behind walls –
nothing ever was lost by falling into oblivion
and everything was urgently present
inside crates which now have to be unshipped
on another shore of paper –
the wharf disappears and there’s a hush
like a night holding its breath
for the day so that it would not be seen –
what is not being seen continues to exist
without the tacking about of port and starboard
afloat like white garments inside the memory
all of the trusted ones those drowned long ago
and now bobbing faintly like ego stains
in the wake from word to word –
could life still be asleep now?
whatever happened to the dancers?
could there be a corpse in every cabin?
silently like some elapsed time the boat glides
down the canal of inevitability
what was alive is within a hand’s reach
the birds are roosting open-eyed in dark shrubs
the hatches are shut
heavily the fog rolls down to prevent
houses and hills from being demarcated –
where the watercourse mouths
a foghorn is moaning the restrained sorrow
of a coast taking leave –
suppose your dream is a boat
with its prow fixed toward the dark ocean
and you the embarked one drowsing and waiting
for the world of lands veiled
in a horizon of light
to perish as if in the dazzle of freedom –
supposing you search from deck to deck
now that you wouldn’t need a passport any more
for the pilot
who will be steering this boat across the seas
to a south
where everything will unfold in the open
for the cycles to endure
having been read and remembered
and never needing to be recounted or counted down again –
and how nobody was to be found on board
the kitchen deserted
the crates fully empty
the captain dead –
and you the stowaway
on a ship that has been sailing
since the dawn
of perceiving assumptions
to a destination or a harbour
sunken away into the ink
Paname, 15 September 2021
***
die inkommer
asem besit niks/ en word deur niks besit nie/
en is niks se skip vol landsoekers
veronderstel dat dit wat jy nou probeer skryf
wat op hierdie woorde dryf
soos op ‘n donker spieël
‘n droom is –
veronderstel daardie boot
in die donkerlig uur wanneer alles vasgemeer is
in die ewigheid van ontwaking tot vorm
laat glip die vasmaaktoue een vir een
om met ‘n snik in die uitwissing te val –
en die skip begin gly geluidloos
tussen wal en wal
al af met die kanaal
deur ‘n synskap wat nog slaap
al is dit onrustig –
op die dek so nat asof van trane
en in die ruim onder watervlak
verbeel jy jou al die vergelykings
soos gekielhaalde begeertes
wat in die beweging van herkenning verhaal is –
die liefdes en die weggaan
die ongediertes en die motte
die torings van vlam
op verre landhoogtes om die hart te omkring
en stemme en stemme wat agter mure sing –
niks het ooit in die vergeteling verlore gegaan
en alles was dringend aanwesig
in kratte wat nou op ‘n ander oewer van papier
afgelaai moet word –
die kaai verdwyn en dis stil
soos ‘n nag wat asem inhou
vir die dag om nie gesien te word nie –
wat nie gesien word bestaan voort
sonder die lavering van bak en stuurboord
dryf soos wit gewade in die geheue
al die vertroudes wat lankal verdrink het
en nou soos ekvlekke effens dobber
in die vaartsog van woord na woord –
slaap die lewe dan nog?
wat het geword van die dansers?
is daar ‘n lyk in elke kajuit?
stil soos ‘n verlede gly die boot
in die kanaal van onvermydelikheid
wat gelewe het is binne handuitreik
die voëls slaap oopoog in donker struike
die luike is dig
swaar sak die newel om te keer
dat huise en heuwels omlyning kry –
waar die breë stroom mond
steun ‘n mishoring die ingehoue verdriet
van ‘n kus wat afskeid neem –
veronderstel jou droom is ‘n boot
met die boeg gerig na die donker oseaan
en jy wat ingeskeep sluimer en wag
vir die wêreld van lande om bewimpel
in ‘n horison van lig
te vergaan asof in die verblinding van vryheid –
gestel jy soek van dek tot dek
nou jy nie meer ‘n paspoort nodig het nie
na die piloot
wat hierdie boot oor die seë gaan stuur
na ‘n suide
waar alles oop en bloot sal ontvou
vir die siklusse om gelees en onthou
te bly bestaan
en nooit weer vertel of afgetel hoef te word –
en hoe daar niemand aan boord is
die kombuis is verlate
die kratte vol leeg
die kaptein dood –
en jy die verstekeling
in ‘n skip wat al sedert die daeraad
van gewaarwordende veronderstelling
vaar na ‘n bestemming of ‘n hawe
weggesink in die ink
Paname, 15 September 2021
Bron: Versindaba, 15/9/2021
