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Posts tagged with: Engels

De toorn van de doorn

door Diana Lebacs

Roselyn Jessurun (dichteres en voordrachtkunstenares):
“Diana, pabien ku e bunita inspirashon asina bunita! Úniko’.
Ki presiosidat kombinando sumpiña, doló, ku bunitesa di e flor. Wanneer is je gedicht geschreven dus geboren?
Bo a skirbié mainta tempran promé ku solo sali òf djis despues di apertura
Ku bo a yega kas…
Kurioso pa sa e momentu. E dia, e fecha. Pasobra mi por imaginá.
Ta un hoya ku a nase i ku bo a kompartí ku nos. Un hoya di arte di poesia.
Úniko. Presioso.
Pero mi no tin nodi di sa pa i a disfrutá kaba.”

read on…

Werk van Almeerse dichter in Bahasa Indonesia vertaald

Onlangs ontving auteur Quito Nicolaas van zijn uitgever In de Knipscheer het bericht dat een van zijn gedichten – ‘Oranjestad’ – uit de gedichtenbundel Argus werd geselecteerd om vertaald te worden in het Bahasa Indonesia. Het gedicht werd vertaald door Siti Wahyuningsih en Albert Hagenaars om geplaatst te worden op de blog Puisi Belanda. De vertaling maakt deel uit van een continu project digitale-poëzie, waarvan gedichten van een geselecteerde groep Nederlandse dichters worden vertaald.

read on…

Shara McCallum – Machineel

We lived in the house of the slamming doors.

Wind blew into and through each room,

turning our home into a raft, billowing curtains
like sails, setting the four of us adrift.

Our youngest called the place a castle,
she and her sister competing to spy the turret

whenever we rounded the corner
that brought the roof back into view.

Walking the footpath to the sea,
the children collected rocks, picked weeds

they insisted were flowers, side-stepped the plague
of African snails, entrails splayed and crisping in the sun.

Whole days were spent with each of us lost
inside time’s matrices, repeating gestures:

scooping frogs that kept stranding themselves in the pool,
borrowing trinkets from the seabed’s floor.

Once, wandering the Flower Forest, the children
braceletted their arms and wrists with millipedes.

As if in a dream, my husband and I blindly saw
and smiled. Later when their fingertips flared,

we remembered we’d been given warnings to heed:
avoid the manchineel tree, with its poison apples,

its leaves weeping skin-blistering sap after rain.
Holding their hands, we smoothed ointment

on skin that glowed red for days,
marker of our narrow escape.

[from The Caribbean Review of Books, May 2010]

Shara McCallum is the author of three books of poems: The Water Between Us (1999), Song of Thieves (2003), and This Strange Land(forthcoming, 2011). Her New and Selected Poems will be published in 2011 by Peepal Tree Press. Originally from Jamaica, she lives with her family in central Pennsylvania, where she directs the Stadler Centre for Poetry and teaches creative writing and literature at Bucknell University.

Fred D’Aguiar – Demerara Sugar

In neat sachets where each grain
Flows with crystal clarity in a slalom
Of Swiss blinds ready for my tongue
Sugar cut by hand-swinging cutlass
With half an eye kept on any snake
Wrapping its way around cane fields
Cane pressed for its last ounce of sap
Boiled down to molasses that is cane
Marrow if cane were bones broken
From fields for a bone feast
Demerara whose east coast raised me
From a mere stalk to stand straight
To stand tall no matter what current
Help me find your grain your flow
And Demerara sweeten me
So my art keeps your river’s caveat
Your sense of cane fields bathed in sweat

Uit: The Caribbean Review of Books, May 2009

Fred D’Aguiar, poet, novelist, and playwright, was born in London of Guyanese parents and raised in Guyana. His most recent book is Continental Shelf (2009), a collection of poems. He teaches at Virginia Tech in the United States.

The last dramatic sentence

The last dramatic sentence we heard from him was: “Silence! Total Silence!”

And all the trees and creeks
around understood:
this meant the end.
This Caribbean Soul
had bade us “Farewell!”
A man who unselfishly
had wrought
a kind of Caribbean Brotherhood

with music, theatre, poetry, dance
from an emerging state,
a state more than independance.

And it is this striving
we deeply appreciate.
A man showing up
our face of Brotherhood

Is this not a pillar
supporting us?

Therefore it is this
we bear in mind.
This treasure
this link he made
with our friends here and abroad.
A link a perpetual livelihood.

Michael Slory

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