Audio Poems

 

Lied van die skepping

deur Fiama Hasse Pais Brandão

Vertaal deur De Waal Venter

 

In die begin was daar lig, toe

blou lug, want lig word geabsorbeer

deur die luglae waardeur ons kyk.

In die begin was die Passie, en uit

sy bloed het die diere voortgekom, uit

sy Kruis die plante. Daar was, in die begin

die weggesteekte diertjie-plantjie

in die Paradys, maar alomteenwoordig

sedert voor die begin. En van die klei

van die oerwêreld is die lewende wêreld

en die mens gevorm, oorspoel met lig

wat sterk lyne en vae vorms geskep het.

In die begin was daar die swaarkry

en vertroosting van dié wat hulself inspan,

soggens tot saans om hulle brood te verdien.

En die vrug daarvan het geglinster in daardie lig

toe die waters geskei het, en die see se golwe,

stu en breek tot vandag toe

want ek hoor die geluid van die skepping.

 

Die gedig word gelees deur Louw Venter. Klik hieronder.

Lied van die skepping

 

Voicing an intention

She was a concert pianist,

and beauty

was of the utmost importance to her.

She abhorred the sound

of a wrong note,

cringed at the thumping noise

splurting from a passing car

that the driver regarded as music.

She loved silence,

even when it was punctuated

by the almost subsonic

dropping notes of a faraway dove.

She loved to place

a series of well-chosen

piano notes in a stretch of silence,

and then listened

to the sounds folding into themselves,

night flowers retreating into darkness.

She clinked a spoon

against porcelain,

smiled, and heard her lips

shape into a happy curve –

his voice was at the gate,

a joyous animal,

jumping up into the sun,

muscular body tripping lightly

over the earth’s gravity:

hellooo!

Voicing an intention Mixed

Philosopher

Swimming through understanding,

he takes care

not to drown.

To do that,

he often has to shut

his mouth and mind.

Submerged in understanding,

he holds his breath,

but not for long

before he has to come up

to breathe

where nothing is understood –

his natural habitat.

Philosopher mixed

Herfsdag

Rainer Maria Rilke

Heer: dit is tyd. Die somer was groots.
Gooi U skaduwee op die sonwyser
en laat die winde waai oor die veld.

Laat die laaste vrugte uitswel
gee hulle nog twee warm suider-dae,
lei hulle tot rypheid en stuur
die laaste soetheid na donker wyn.

Hy wat nie ‘n huis het nie sal niks meer bou nie.
Hy wat alleen is, sal lank so bly,
wakker word, lees, lang briewe skryf
en sal in die strate op en af
onrustig ronddwaal soos die blare dwarrel.

Vertaler: De Waal venter

Herbsttag

Rainer Maria Rilke

Herr: es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr groß.
Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren,
und auf den Fluren laß die Winde los.

Befiel den letzten Früchten voll zu sein;
gib ihnen noch zwei südlichere Tage,
dränge sie zur Vollendung hin und jage
die letzte Süße in den schweren Wein.

Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr.
Wer jetzt allein ist, wird Es lange bleiben,
wird wachen, lesen, lange Briefe schreiben
und wird in den Alleen hin und her
unruhig wandern, wenn die Blätter treiben.

Klik hieronder om na die gedig te luister

rilke_herbsttag


Pablo Neruda

Cuerpo de mujer, blancas colinas … (Poema I)

Cuerpo de mujer, blancas colinas, muslos blancos,
te pareces al mundo en tu actitud de entrega.
Mi cuerpo de labriego salvaje te socava
y hace saltar el hijo del fondo de la tierra.
Fui solo como un túnel. De mí huían los pájaros
y en mí la noche entraba su invasión poderosa.
Para sobrevivirme te forjé como un arma,
como una flecha en mi arco, como una piedra en mi honda.
Pero cae la hora de la venganza, y te amo.
Cuerpo de piel, de musgo, de leche ávida y firme.
Ah los vasos del pecho! Ah los ojos de ausencia!
Ah las rosas del pubis! Ah tu voz lenta y triste!
Cuerpo de mujer mía, persistirá en tu gracia.
Mi sed, mi ansia sin limite, mi camino indeciso!
Oscuros cauces donde la sed eterna sigue,
y la fatiga sigue, y el dolor infinito.

Listen to the poem

Le déjeuner sur l’herbe et la lune et la lune

De Waal Venter


Édouard mixed in a little more red

into the paint on his palette,

striving for exactly the right skin tone

on the woman’s cheek.

Are you chilly? he asked solicitously.

She shook her head with a smile.

Just tell me when you want

to put your clothes on again, he said,

touching his brush delicately to the canvas.

The man sitting opposite her on the grass

offered her a glass of red wine.

She accepted graciously.

The man next to her

offered her a piece of cheese on a plate.

Again she shook her head with a smile

and gave him the glass to hold

so that she could resume her pose.

I wonder whether this will work,

Édouard thought. This odd mixture of models.

Movement caught his eye.

A kestrel shot past, up into the sky.

The moon, a lozenge sucked almost to nothing,

was slowly rolling down to the horizon.

He stared into the sky.

I wonder what is beyond, he thought,

what  colours would you need one day

when you look back at the earth

from outside.

Listen to the poem

Lunch with music

.

.

.

Essentially you

De Waal Venter


The subtle smell
of freshly cut lettuce leaves,
red fragrance of thin tomato slices,
whiplash of dried Thyme, Origanum and Basil,
the primordial sting of salt.

This is your mind
emanating from your body.

I cannot touch you,
only learn of you
through the aromas that are you.

You are very present
in the opened orange,
each of your glistening little cells
holding a flavour
that I want to translate
into a massed choir, a painting
with colours uniquely combined,
a poem that enfolds the mind
with gentle cruelty.

You are so extravagant
with your essence.

Listen to the poem

Essentially you Mixed

.

.

Jean-Michel Espalier

Rouzeau

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