Posts Tagged ‘WH Auden. Vertaling in Afrikaans’

WH Auden. Vertaling in Afrikaans

Friday, January 29th, 2016

W.H. Auden – vert./tr in Afrikaans . Helize van Vuuren

 

Vlugteling-blues – WH Auden

 

Sê die stad het tien miljoen siele,

Party woon in paleise, ander in hole;

Maar daar’s nie plek vir ons, my lief, daar is nie plek vir ons.

 

Eens had ons ‘n land en ons dag dis reg,

Kyk na die atlas en jy vind dit daar:

Soontoe kan ons nie nou nie, my lief, soontoe kan ons nie nou nie.

 

In die dorpskerkhof groei daar ‘n ou taksusboom,

Elke lente bloei hy opnuut:

Ou paspoorte kan dit nie doen nie, my lief, ou paspoorte kan dit nie doen nie.

 

Die konsul het op die tafel geslaan en gesê,

“Sonder ‘n paspoort is jy amptelik dood”:

Maar ons lewe nog, my lief, ons lewe nog.

 

Was by ‘n komitee: hul’t my ‘n stoel aangebied;

My hoflik gevra om oor ‘n jaar terug te keer:

Maar waarheen moet ons vandag, my lief, waarheen moet ons vandag?

 

Kom by ‘n openbare vergadering; die spreker staan op en sê,

“Laat ons hul in, steel hul ons daaglikse brood”:

Hy’t oor my en jou gepraat, my lief, oor my en jou.

 

Gedog ek hoor die donderweer rommel in die lug;

Dit was Hitler oor Europa, seggende, “Hul moet dood”:

O, ons was in sy gedagte, my lief, hy’t oor ons gepraat.

 

Het ‘n poedel gesien in ‘n trui met ‘n borsspeld,

Het ‘n deur sien oopgaan om ‘n kat in te laat:

Maar hul was nie Duitse Jode nie, my lief, hul was nie Duitse Jode nie.

Was af na die hawe en het op die kaai gestaan,

Het die visse sien swem asof hul vry is:

Net tien voet weg, my lief, net tien voet weg.

 

Het deur ‘n woud geloop, die voëls in die bome gesien;

Hul was sonder politici en het rustig gesing:

Hul was nie die menslike spesie nie, my lief, hul was nie die menslike spesie nie.

 

Gedroom ek sien ‘n gebou met tien vloere,

‘n Duisend vensters en ‘n duisend deure:

Nie een van hul was ons s’n nie, my lief, nie een van hul was ons s’n nie.

 

Het op ‘n groot plein in die vallende sneeu gestaan;

Tien duisend soldate marsjeer op en af:

Soekend na jou en my, my lief, soekend na jou en my.

 

 

(1939. In: “Ten songs”, Collected shorter poems 1927-1957)

Vert. deur dr. Helize van Vuuren/2016

 

 

 

Refugee blues – WH Auden

 

Say this city has ten million souls,

Some are living in mansions, some are living in holes:

Yet there’s no place for us, my dear, yet there’s no place for us.

 

Once we had a country and we thought it fair,

Look in the atlas and you’ll find it there:

We cannot go there now, my dear, we cannot go there now.

 

In the village churchyard there grows an old yew,

Every spring it blossoms anew:

Old passports can’t do that, my dear, old passports can’t do that.

 

The consul banged the table and said,

“If you’ve got no passport you’re officially dead”:

But we are still alive, my dear, but we are still alive.

 

Went to a committee; they offered me a chair;

Asked me politely to return next year:

But where shall we go to-day, my dear, but where shall we go to-day?

 

Came to a public meeting; the speaker got up and said;

“If we let them in, they will steal our daily bread”:

He was talking of you and me, my dear, he was talking of you and me.

 

Thought I heard the thunder rumbling in the sky;

It was Hitler over Europe, saying, “They must die”:

O we were in his mind, my dear, O we were in his mind.

 

Saw a poodle in a jacket fastened with a pin,

Saw a door opened and a cat let in:

But they weren’t German Jews, my dear, but they weren’t German Jews.

 

Went down the harbour and stood upon the quay,

Saw the fish swimming as if they were free:

Only ten feet away, my dear, only ten feet away.

 

Walked through a wood, saw the birds in the trees;

They had no politicians and sang at their ease:

They weren’t the human race, my dear, they weren’t the human race.

 

Dreamed I saw a building with a thousand floors,

A thousand windows and a thousand doors:

Not one of them was ours, my dear, not one of them was ours.

 

Stood on a great plain in the falling snow;

Ten thousand soldiers marched to and fro:

Looking for you and me, my dear, looking for you and me.

 

(1939. In: “Ten songs”, Collected shorter poems 1927-1957)

 

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