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Image:Brittanica.com

English readers…I’ve translated the first Afrikaans poem for you…then you can slide down to read more in English…

 In die Hoëveld

1. In die Hoëveld, waar dit oop is en die hemel wyd daarbo,
Waar kuddes waaigras huppel oor die veld,
Waar ’n mens nog vry kan asemhaal en aan ’n God kan glo,
Staan my huisie, wat ek moes verlaat vir geld.
En as ek in die gange van die myn hier sit en droom
Van die winde op die Hoëveld, ruim en vry,
Dan hoor ek die geklinkel van my spore, saal en toom,
Sawens as ek bees of skaap toe ry.

On the High-veld

1. In the High-veld where it’s open and heaven’s wide up there
Where herds of tall grass frisk about the veld
Where you can breath freely and believe in God
Stands my little house which I’ve left for money
And If I sit here in the tunnels of the mine, dreaming
About the High-veld wind, wide and free
Then I hear the sound of my tracks, saddle and bridle
At dusk when riding to the livestock.

image:mooikrans.co.za

2.Op die Hoëveld, waar dit wyd is, waar jy baie ver kan sien,
(Die ylblou bring ’n knop dan in jou keel)
Staan my huisie nog en wag vir my, wag al ’n jaar of tien,
Waar die bokkies op die leigrafstene speel.
Maar as die tering kwaai word en ek hoor die laaste fluit,
Dan sweef ek na die Hoëveld op die wind
Ek soek dan in die maanlig al die mooiste plekkies uit
Waar ek kleiosse gemaak het as ’n kind.
Toon van den Heever (1894-1956)

2.On the High-veld, where it’s spacious, where you can see far off
(The wispy blue brings a lump to your throat)
Stands my little house, waiting for me about a year or ten
Where the little deer play on the slate tombstones
But if the tuberculosis gets worse and I hear the last wheeze
I then wander to the High-veld wind
And in the moonlight I seek all the most beautiful places
Where I made clay oxen as a child.
—©Nikita —

Image: kaapland.voortrekkers.org.za/kommandos/stellenbosch

Highveld Sky…image: Eb-art.com Artist: Estelle Botha

Al die gedigte wat nou volg, is NP van Wyk-Louw gedigte!

My venster is ’n blanke vlak

My venster is ’n blanke vlak
in skaduwee en skemering,
waar ek my nagte waak en wag
op magiese deursuiwering:

dat hierdie siel deursigtig word
in vreemde voorgevoelde lig,
tot kring bo kring opglans en straal
in eindelose vergesig;

dat wat ek nog verlore waan,
o my verlore dae in my,
in hierdie stille skemering
hul vorming en gestalte kry,

tot ek my eensaamheid besit,
volmaak, as kosbare gewin,
van duister wense en van smart
die uiterste deurstraalde sin.
N P van Wyk-Louw

VROEGHERFS

Die jaar word ryp in goue akker blare
in wingerd wat verbruin, en witter lug
wat daglank van die nuwe wind en klare
son deurspoel word; elke blom word vrug,
tot self die traagstes; en die eerste blare val
so stilweg in die rook-vaal bos en laan
dat die takke van die lang popliere al
teen elke ligte môre witter staan.
O Heer, laat hierdie dae heilig word:
laat alles val wat pronk en sieraad was
Of enkel jeug en vér was van die pyn;
Laat ryp word Heer, laat U wind waai, laat stort
my waan, tot al die hoogheid eindelik vas
en nakend uit my teerder jeug verskyn.

Osterley Park

Nagreën

Die reën skuifel deur die straat,
verby my venster, mensverlaat …
Soos ’n trossie narsings wat verkwyn,
flikker die druppels teen my vensterruit
waar die geel straatlig daardeur skyn;
en voel die wind
met bleek vingers, soos ’n kind,
aan die swaar gordyn, wat plooi
in die lamplig, teer en droef papawerrooi.

Image: wvs.topleftpixel.com

Grense

My naakte siel wil sonder skrome
in alle eenvoud tot jou gaan,
soos uit diepe slaap ons drome,
soos teen skemerlug die bome
opreik na die bloue maan;

gaan met al sy donker wense,
en die heilige, nooit-gehoorde
dinge sê, waarvoor die mense
huiwer, en wat om die grense
flikker van my duister woorde.

Image: astroden.com/images.htm

Voël

’n Voël vlieg voor my venster verby,
’n naalddun lyn wat daaroor gly
en die glas in twee vlakke sny;

die wêrelde val apart en bly
elk in sy enkelheid geskei –
ek hierbinne, en daarbuite hy.

Die liefde in my

Dis altyd jy, net altyd jy,
die een gedagte bly my by
soos skadu’s onder bome bly,
net altyd jy, net altyd jy.

Langs baie weë gaan my smart,
blind is my oë en verward,
is alle dinge in my hart.

Maar dit sal een en enkeld bly,
en aards en diep sy laafnis kry,
al staan dit winter, kaal in my,
die liefde in my, die liefde in my.


Nog eenmaal

Nog eenmaal wil ek in die skemeraand
weer op ons dorp en by ons dorpsdam staan,
weer met my rek op in die donker skiet,
en luister, en al word ek seer en dof,
hoe die klein klippie ver weg in die riet
uit donker in die donker water plof.
Uit Nuwe verse (1954)

Image:http://www.naboom2germany.co.za/Naboomspruit.htm

Voorspel 1950

Miskien sal ek die wingerd prys
en nooit meer van hom drink
en net in ’n verbeelde glas
die koel gedagte skink:

dié wat in jare donkerte
sy wynsteen kon laat sak
en niks wat somers is meer het
nie pit nie dop of rank:

miskien nog van Gods weë weet:
– Sy paaie en Sy pyn:
maar ingewikkeld alles ken
en mens wil wees én rein.
Uit Tristia (1962)

Afskeid

Jy’t weggegaan en jy bewoon
‘n silwer herberg in die sneeu
jou venster kyk nog elke nag
met drie blink oë na die plein
die plein is boom en wind en boom
en wind en wind
en wintermiddag voer daar iemand
die meeue krummels teen die wind

Uit: Tristia (1962)

English readers:This is my 1000th entry and I want to celebrate it with some beautiful poetry…in Afrikaans…but, there’s some links for you to follow…English/French and other languages…poems to enjoy. There’s a brilliant bird-site for you to enjoy…South African birds…do take a look, it’s worth visiting this site! The poems in this entry are mainly from two wonderful South African well-known poets…and poems I really love. The first poem is about the Highveld and I was 11 years of age and had to know about 4-6 poems every week… to recite on a weekly basis and some were really long…as a child you don’t always understand why you have to learn certain things in life, but now I do appreciate my Afrikaans Language teacher from Primary after all these years, of course we had to learn English poems too…but let’s leave that for later, Afrikaans is a much more beautiful language, especially when it comes to poetry!

On this link here you can read more fantastic poems in different languages…the link will open in a new window.

To see more fantastic bird pictures….please click here and the link will open in a new window. There is an English page as well as an Afrikaans page…the link will open in the English page. If you want the Afrikaans page, you will have to click on “front page”.

This was my 1000th entry…!

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English readers: you can find my translation of this first poem on “My Poems-gedigte” page on top of my blog. I hope you will enjoy it.

EENSAAMHEID – JAN F.E. CELLIERS
My vuurtjie en ek is op wag –
my vuurtjie en ek alleen;
die awend-ster
wink al van ver,
en die velde slaap omheen.

En stadigies sterwe die dag,
soos een in sy armoed verlaat,
ongesien, ongeag,
sonder suggie of lag,
waar niemand van weet of van praat.

Nou bly die lug alom
in stil aanbidding staan –
geen tampende bel
wat die ure tel:
net die sterre wat kom en gaan.

Die osse, met koppe gebuie,
herkoue nog stil in die nag,
tot één vir één buk
en gaan lê by sy juk,
met `n sug, ná die trek van die dag.

My vuurtjie is al wat nog leef
in die eindeloos ruim met my,
en sy stemmetjie dwaal
soos `n deuntjie wat draal
om dae lank verby,

om jonkheids blye môre
en laggies lank verlewe.
Dan voel ek `n traan
in my oë staan
en ek fluister: “Heer, vergewe!”

Die slapende velde lê wyd,
en wyer die donker see,
wat my vuurtjie en my
vanawend skei
van die wêreld se vreug en wee;

ek weet daar`s fees vanaand
in menig verligte saal,
maar geeneen wat my mis
by die dans en die dis –
`n balling vergeet en verdwaal.

Maar al is ek, ver van die skaar,
in eensaamheids wonings getrede,
ek voel my soos een
met die Heer alleen –
`n kind aan Sy boesem tevrede.

image: digitalcameraclub.co.za

I’ve read something this morning on Zee’s blog that reminded me about this poem : “Eensaamheid” by Jan F E Celliers I also came accross this poem on a  website and it also reminded me about this very same poem! “Eensaamheid” means…”loneliness…or…solitude…”

Ver op hoë berge
Pagina: 431/431

Ver op hoë berge, o-o-o…
Sit ek eensaam in die nag,
by my vuurtjie stil op wag,
ver op hoë berge.

‘k Denk nou kom my liefste, o-o-o…
k’ Sie van verre kom die wa,
die my liefste skat daar dra,
ver op hoë berge.

Droom is weer voorbij nou, o-o-o…
‘k Sit weer eensaam in die nag,
by my vuurtjie stil op wag,
ver op hoë berge.
http://www.carpegeel.be/lied.aspx?id=857

Read on WIKIPEDIA more about him.
Kliek 
HIER vir meer gedigte deur Celliers…
Enjoy the music of Sweet People …terwyl jy  “Eensaamheid” lees

On THIS LINK on my blog- you can read two poems of Jan FE Celliers.

Afrikaanse kindergedig!
Digter? Wie kan help?  Titel?
Daar stap ‘n klein mannetjie
In die rigting van die klotsende waterstroompie
Hy het ‘n emmer in sy handjie
En jy hoor net:die suisende windjie!

Hy stap, voete slepend
Hy stap, tande knersend
Hy draf, voete knarsend
Hy draf, hande swaaiend

Oppad hoor hy ‘n kwetterende voëltjie
Hy val skielik: kaplaks!
Daar lê hy onderstebo op die bruggie
“Ai”, sê hy, “dis seer”, vervlaks!

Nou loop ons klein ou mannetjie
Baie stadig, hy sien hy ‘n bobbejaan
Wat al blaffend en al strompelend
KADOEF! en PARDOEF!
Teen ‘n boomstomp kom gejaa’n

Die kabbellende rivierstroompie
Stroom al jubelend oor die klippies
Daarnaas is ‘n verdwaalde lam
Hy blêr! Ai tog! Dis ‘n ram!

Oppad terug stap die mannetjie
Met sy kleine, swaaiende kannetjie
Geluidloos deur die woud heen en weer
Wat het geword van die brullende
En krakende donderweer?

Ek weet! Die sissende slange
En kwakende padda
Het almal op skrik gejaag
KABOEM! Daar blits hy
SJADOEF! Daar flits hy

~~~~~~

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English readers… I translated an English poem wich I posted 2 days ago…”I know a place”…by Wayne Visser…in Afrikaans…you can read the poem at the bottom of this post in English. One Afrikaans-blogger has asked me for a translation as he’s thought that this poem would be fantastic  in Afrikaans  too….and I would like to agree with him, although Wayne’s poem is already a very good poem to describe your feelings/places about Africa and I believe only a person who knows Africa can describe it the way Wayne has done. I’ve sent him an email to respond on the translation I’ve done and he has responded…you can read his comments…he also responded in Afrikaans, saying that Afrikaans is a beautiful language for poetry…which I’ve said many times to my chess player friends…I do love English poetry too, but my favourite poems are without doubt the Afrikaans poems….not because it’s my mother tongue, but for the reason that Afrikaans is such a rich language and you can play with words a lot more than the English language.

As a native-speaking English person I know how much Afrikaans people are constantly ripped off by the English. Having a completely mixed up family I am also lucky to be completely bilingual. This all means that i have the best of both worlds, which I would like to share a bit of.

Afrikaans is an extremely expressive and descriptive language with words that can’t even possibly be translated into English…This is what meggwilson says on HER BLOG here…

  Visit Wayne’s website HERE to read his English poems…
 

 Nadat ek Wayne se gedig geplaas het, het Bib my gevra vir ‘n vertaling en gedink dat dit net so mooi gedig in Afrikaans kan wees. Wel, ek het probeer en ek glo ek sal nog oor die volgende paar dae “werk”/skaaf aan wat ek nou hier plaas. Ek het geen idee of Wayne Afrikaans magtig is nie en sal graag wou hê hy moet self ook ‘n vertaling doen, sou hy Afrikaanssprekend ook wees…ek het hom nou gekontak per email en hom gevra vir sy kommentaar …laat ons sien of hy gaan reageer…
nuusberig…nuusberig…nuusberig…Wayne het ‘n boodskap gelos oor die plasing van sy gedig, jy kan dit in die “kommentaar-blok” lees…


Ek weet van ‘n plek in Afrika
 Ek weet van ‘n plek in Afrika
Waar ek die son op my rug voel skyn
En die sand tussen my tone speel
Waar ek die seemeeu op die windjie hoor
En  golwe op  eindlose strande breek

 

Ek weet van ‘n plek in Afrika
Waar die berge die blou lug ontmoet
En valleie die groen wingerde huisves
Waar bome hul pers kleed sprei
En die bosveld sy room kleed dra
Ek weet van ‘n plek in Afrika
Waar die dondergode hul stemme laat hoor
En sien ek hul weerligspiese neerdaal
Waar ek die reuk van reenwolke intrek
En die soet van die stowwerige doudruppels proe
Dis ‘n wildernis, die plek
Van Evolusie en dinosorusse
Waar lewe begin het, hier was die eerste mens
Van lewende fossiele en olifante
Waar leeus brul en springboktroppe spring
Dis die plek van swaarkry
Van woestyne en doringbome
Waar paaie doodloop en jagters jag
Van horisonne en grense
Waar reise begin en sonsondergange bloei
Dis die plek van vryheid
Van ontdekkings en pioniers
Waar donkerte geskuil – en die lig deurgebreek het
Van ware legendes en wonderwerke
Waar dagbreek begin en hoop helder brand

My hart is tuis in Afrika
Waar die tromme se ritme in my klop
En  tydlose liedere in my ore sing
Waar die reenboogmis in my oë skyn
En vriende se glimlagte my welkom heet

My gedagtes ontspan in Afrika
Waar die mense na aan die aarde leef
En seisoene die veranderde gemoed aandui
Waar besige markte handel dryf
En die Skepping sy stadige gang steeds gaan

My siel is gelukkig in Afrika
Haar strome bring lewe in my are
Haar winde bring genesing vir my drome
Wanneer haar verhaal vertel is
Verenig dit ons in ons noodlot.

© Nikita…Mei 2008

Image:digitalekameraklub.co.za

image: digitalekameraklub.co.za

I know a place in Africa…
Inspiring poetry written by Wayne Visser,
a South African currently based in Nottingham, UK.

I know a place in Africa
Where I can feel the sun on my back
And the sand between my barefoot toes
Where I can hear the gulls on the breeze
And the waves crash on the endless shore

I know a place in Africa
Where the mountains touch the skies of blue
And the valleys shelter vines of green
Where the trees spread out a cloth of mauve
And the bushveld wears a coat of beige

I know a place in Africa
Where I can hear the voice of thunder gods
And watch their lightening spears thrown to earth
Where I can breathe the scent of rain clouds
And taste the sweet dew of dusty drops

This is the place of wildness
Of evolution and dinosaurs
Where life began and mankind first stood
Of living fossils and elephants
Where lions roar and springbok herds leap

This is the place of struggle
Of desert plains and thorn trees
Where pathways end and hunters track game
Of horizons and frontiers
Where journeys start and sunsets bleed red

This is the place of freedom
Of exploration and pioneers
Where darkness loomed and light saw us through
Of living legends and miracles
Where daybreak came and hope now shines bright

My heart is at home in Africa
Where the sound of drums beat in my chest
And the songs of time ring in my ears
Where the rainbow mist glows in my eyes
And the smiles of friends make me welcome

My mind is at ease in Africa
Where the people still live close to the soil
And the seasons mark my changing moods
Where the markets hustle with trading
And Creation keeps its own slow time

My soul is at peace in Africa
For her streams bring lifeblood to my veins
And her winds bring healing to my dreams
For when the tale of this land is told
Her destiny and mine are as one

© 2006 Wayne Visser

Hierdie ou het op sy blog die gedig geplaas sonder enige erkenning aan die vertaling wat ek gedoen het of die verwysing na Wayne Visser se gedig! Ten spyte van ‘n boodskap wat ek hom gelaat het, ignoreer hy dit steeds.
http://www.suid-afrikaners.co.za/magazine/read/ek-weet-van-n-plek-in-afrika_14.html

Image: digitalekameraklub.co.za

 

images:digitalekameraklub.co.za

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It’s been quite awhile since I’ve blogged poetry! I love poetry, as I said before…on this link here on my ..blogger-blog I once blogged one of Wayne’s poems and I want to blog it here too…as I do love South Africa –which is part of Africa…one secondary school child argued with me a few weeks ago about our country’s name..said that..there isn’t a “West Africa” as a country nor “East Africa” as a country, so how can I say that I am from South Africa and I say “South Africa” is a country! hehehe…Wayne visited my blogger blog-post and left me a message at that particular post…so let’s see if he will find this one too…lol! 
I came across Meggwilson’s blog where she says exactly what I’ve said so many times…even on my blog too….

As a native-speaking English person I know how much Afrikaans people are constantly ripped off by the English. Having a completely mixed up family I am also lucky to be completely bilingual. This all means that i have the best of both worlds, which I would like to share a bit of.

Afrikaans is an extremely expressive and descriptive language with words that can’t even possibly be translated into English…you can read it HERE ….


I’ve translated this poem of Wayne in Afrikaans on this link and you can also read Wayne’s comments about the translation on this link.

I know a place in Africa…
Inspiring poetry written by Wayne Visser,
a South African currently based in Nottingham, UK.

I know a place in Africa
Where I can feel the sun on my back
And the sand between my barefoot toes
Where I can hear the gulls on the breeze
And the waves crash on the endless shore

I know a place in Africa
Where the mountains touch the skies of blue
And the valleys shelter vines of green
Where the trees spread out a cloth of mauve
And the bushveld wears a coat of beige

I know a place in Africa
Where I can hear the voice of thunder gods
And watch their lightening spears thrown to earth
Where I can breathe the scent of rain clouds
And taste the sweet dew of dusty drops

This is the place of wildness
Of evolution and dinosaurs
Where life began and mankind first stood
Of living fossils and elephants
Where lions roar and springbok herds leap

This is the place of struggle
Of desert plains and thorn trees
Where pathways end and hunters track game
Of horizons and frontiers
Where journeys start and sunsets bleed red

This is the place of freedom
Of exploration and pioneers
Where darkness loomed and light saw us through
Of living legends and miracles
Where daybreak came and hope now shines bright

My heart is at home in Africa
Where the sound of drums beat in my chest
And the songs of time ring in my ears
Where the rainbow mist glows in my eyes
And the smiles of friends make me welcome

My mind is at ease in Africa
Where the people still live close to the soil
And the seasons mark my changing moods
Where the markets hustle with trading
And Creation keeps its own slow time

My soul is at peace in Africa
For her streams bring lifeblood to my veins
And her winds bring healing to my dreams
For when the tale of this land is told
Her destiny and mine are as one

© 2006 Wayne Visser

 

Image:flickr

I am an African…

This poem was written by Wayne Visser.

I am an African
Not because I was born there
But because my heart beats with Africa’s
I am an African
Not because my skin is black
But because my mind is engaged by Africa
I am an African
Not because I live on its soil
But because my soul is at home in Africa

When Africa weeps for her children
My cheeks are stained with tears
When Africa honours her elders
My head is bowed in respect
When Africa mourns for her victims
My hands are joined in prayer
When Africa celebrates her triumphs
My feet are alive with dancing

I am an African
For her blue skies take my breath away
And my hope for the future is bright
I am an African
For her people greet me as family
And teach me the meaning of community
I am an African
For her wildness quenches my spirit
And brings me closer to the source of life

When the music of Africa beats in the wind
My blood pulses to its rhythm
And I become the essence of music
When the colours of Africa dazzle in the sun
My senses drink in its rainbow
And I become the palette of nature
When the stories of Africa echo round the fire
My feet walk in its pathways
And I become the footprints of history

I am an African
Because she is the cradle of our birth
And nurtures an ancient wisdom
I am an African
Because she lives in the world’s shadow
And bursts with a radiant luminosity
I am an African
Because she is the land of tomorrow
And I recognise her gifts as sacred

© 2005 Wayne Visser


Please click
HERE to visit Wayne’s site.

On this image you can see Wayne…image from his site.

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Image…Wikipedia
Click HERE on this post to read my translation of his poem “Dans van die reën” in English…The link will open in a new window. “The Dance of the rain”…and you can read about this book on the link too.

Dance_in_rain_peerflydotcom

EUGÈNE Marais was a South African poet, a story-teller, a journalist, a lawyer, a psychologist, a natural scientist, a drug-addict, and a great genius — an abused and forgotten genius, and the world is the worse off for that.”
Read “Soul of the Ant” HERE online.

 

Eugene Marais was one of  South Africa’s more talented writers/poets. I love his poems although I haven’t read his books. I borrowed “The Soul of the Ant” one day – when I was at Primary – but I guess I was too young to read such a book, so I didn’t finish it and read only the first few pages. Some of his poems is about nature like the ‘Winter’s Night’ (translated in English here) and the “Dans van die reën” which is -translated: ‘Dance of the rain.‘ In this poem, he describes the animals’ reaction when the rain is on its way and he describes the rain and her ‘dance.‘ Marais is just brilliant in the way he played with words/metaphors etc. Sadly, he committed suicide in 1936.
Read
HERE on Wiki  more about him. The link will open in a new window.
On the bottom of this post you will find a link to a post on my blog – in English – about Eugene Marais…he was a naturalist, scientist, writer and poet. He made a study of  ants and you can see the book he wrote “The soul of the Ant” on that link…and his other book…”The soul of the Ape”
 

Author: Julee Dickerson Thompson
ISBN: 865432597
Binding: Paperback
Publisher: Africa World Press (March 1997)

The following translation of Marais’ “Winternag” is by J. W. Marchant:

“Winter’s Night”

O the small wind is frigid and spare
and bright in the dim light and bare
as wide as God’s merciful boon
the veld lies in starlight and gloom
and on the high lands
spread through burnt bands
the grass-seed, astir, is like beckoning hands.

O East-wind gives mournful measure to song
Like the lilt of a lovelorn lass who’s been wronged
In every grass fold
bright dewdrop takes hold
and promptly pales to frost in the cold!

Eguene N Marais
WINTERNAG
by Eugene Marais

O koud is die windjie
en skraal.
En blink in die dof-lig
en kaal,
so wyd as die Heer se genade,
le die velde in sterlig en skade
En hoog in die rande,
versprei in die brande,
is die grassaad aan roere
soos winkende hande.

O treurig die wysie
op die ooswind se maat,
soos die lied van ‘n meisie
in haar liefde verlaat.
In elk’ grashalm se vou
blink ‘n druppel van dou,
en vinnig verbleek dit
tot ryp in die kou!

DIE DANS VAN DIE REËN – Eugene Marais
Lied van die vioolspeler. Jan Konterdans.
Uit die Groot Woestyn
O die dans van ons Suster!
Eers oor die bergtop loer sy skelm,
en haar oge is skaam;
en sy lag saggies.
En van ver af wink sy met die een hand;
haar armbande blink en haar krale skitter;
saggies roep sy.
Sy vertel die winde van die dans
en sy nooi hulle uit, want die werf is wyd en die bruilof groot.
Die grootwild jaag uit die vlakte,
hulle dam op die bulttop,
wyd rek hulle die neusgate
en hulle sluk die wind;
en hulle buk, om haar fyn spore op die sand te sien.
Die kleinvolk diep onder die grond hoor die sleep van haar voete,
en hulle kruip nader en sing saggies:
“Ons Suster! Ons Suster! Jy het gekom! Jy het gekom!”
En haar krale skud,
en haar koperringe blink in die wegraak van die son.
Op haar voorkop is die vuurpluim van die berggier;
sy trap af van die hoogte;
sy sprei die vaalkaros met altwee arms uit;
die asem van die wind raak weg.
O, die dans van ons Suster!

[Uit: Versamelde gedigte – Eugene Marais]
Read on THIS LINK on my blog more about Eugene Marais…Article in English…The link will open in a new window.

dvdreen_laurinda

I don’t know Laurinda Hofmeyr’s music, but she’s got an album with the song…”Dans van die reen”. I hope one of my blogger-visitors from SA would be able to tell me more…

Snitte:
1. Lied van die bruidegom – Johan Myburg
2. 26 November 1975 – Breyten Breytenbach
3. Op reis na die Suide – Breyten breytenbach
4. Inbrand – Breyten Breytenbach
5. Die dans van die reën – Eugène N. Marais
6. Kind – Rabindranath Tagore
7. Ek sal sterf en na my vader gaan – Breyten Breytenbach
8. ‘n Halwe engel – Breyten Breytenbach
9. Last grave at Dimbaza – Fanie Olivier
10. Die reis – Breyten Breytenbach
11. Lied van die bruidegom (improvisasie)

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7 December-poem
This poem comes from a “poetic calendar”. There’s a poem for every day and it’s actually a book used by Teachers and I want to share a poem for today from this book! Fridays always feel to me like a special day for poetry! A day to relax! So…relax and enjoy! As student, Ingrid Jonker’s poems really appealed to me…and “Bitterbessie Dagbreek” was always somewhere on a door/wall in my room. At the bottom of this post, you will find a link to read more about her….her poems were translated in many languages!
Follow this link
HERE to listen to her poem in Afrikaans, and at the same time, you can read it in English! Please Click on the play button!
Love-light
A taper lit in sunlight,
Pale yellow leaf of flame,
An upturned heart that trembled
As soft winds breathed your name,
Its brightness was diluted;
But, when the darkness came,
It shone with such pure brilliance
As put the stars to shame.
Vernon Scannell 
From:Read Me2: A Poem For Every Day of The Year
writing.jpg

BITTERBESSIE DAGBREEK
Ingrid Jonker

Bitterbessie dagbreek
bitterbessie son
‘n spieël het gebreek
tusen my en hom

Soek ek na die grootpad
om daarlangs te draf
oral draai die paadjies
van sy woorde af

Dennebos herinnering
dennebos vergeet
het ek ook verdwaal
trap ek in my leed

Papegaai-bont eggo
kierang kierang my
totdat ek bedroë
weer die koggel kry

Eggo is geen antwoord
antwoord hy alom
bitterbessie dagbreek
bitterbessie son

On THIS LINK you will find interesting reading about her life! Read HERE more about INGRID JONKER.
ingridjonker.png
 
SONG 

 

 


Another Afrikaans poem of Ingrid…
Madeliefies in Namakwaland
~~~Ingrid Jonker
Waarom luister ons nog
na die antwoorde van die madeliefies
op die wind op die son
wat het geword van die kokkewietjies
Agter die geslote voorkop
waar miskien nog ’n takkie tuimel
van ’n verdrinkte lente
~~~
Agter my gesneuwelde woord
Agter ons verdeelde huis
Agter die hart gesluit teen homself
Agter draadheinings, kampe, lokasies
Agter die stilte waar onbekende tale
val soos klokke by ’n begrafenis
Agter ons verskleurde land
~~~
sit die groen hotnotsgot van die veld
en ons hoor nog verdwaasd
klein blou Namakwaland-madeliefie
iets antwoord, iets glo, iets weet
. 

I had to blog this Afrikaans song of Laurika Rauch as I think the mood suits today’s poems!

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Listen to her song here….

On THIS LINK – also on my blog – you can find more information about Ingrid and watch a short movie about her too.

On THIS LINK you can read more about Ingrid Jonker and listen to a song.
 

BITTERBESSIE DAGBREEK ~~

Ingrid Jonker

Bitterbessie dagbreek
bitterbessie son
‘n spieël het gebreek
tusen my en hom

Soek ek na die grootpad
om daarlangs te draf
oral draai die paadjies
van sy woorde af

Dennebos herinnering
dennebos vergeet
het ek ook verdwaal
trap ek in my leed

Papegaai-bont eggo
kierang kierang my
totdat ek bedroë
weer die koggel kry

Eggo is geen antwoord
antwoord hy alom
bitterbessie dagbreek
bitterbessie son

TOE MAAR DIE DONKER MAN
(ook gesing deur Laurika Rauch!)
Ingrid Jonker

Op die groen voetpad
van die horison ver
om die aarde skat,
stap ‘n ou man
wat’n oop maan dra in sy hare
Nagtegaal in sy hart
jasmyn gepluk vir sy oop knoopsgat
en ‘n rug gebuk aan sy jare.
Wat maak hy, mammie?
~~
Hy roep die kriekies
Hy roep die swart
stilte wat sing
soos die biesies,
my hart
en die sterre wat klop
tok-tok liefling,
soos die klein toktokkies
in hul fyn-ver kring.
Wat is sy naam, mammie?
~~
Sy naam is Sjuut
Sy naam is Slaap
Meneer Vergeet
uit die land van Vaak
Sy naam is toe maar
hy heet, my lam
Toe maar, die donker man

Muskietejag moes ek op laerskool leer! Dis was regtig ‘n gedig wat ek baie geniet het! Hy het soveel drama wat jy kan insit met die voordra van hierdie gedig!
Muskietejag :  A D Keet
Jou vabond, wag,
ek sal jou kry,
Van jou sal net ‘n bloedkol bly
Hier op my kamermure.
Deur jou vervloekte gonsery,
Deur jou gebyt en plagery
Kon ek nie slaap vir ure.
Mag ek my voorstel,
eer ons skei,
Eer jy die doodslag van my kry –
My naam is van der Merwe.
Muskiet, wees maar nie treurig nie,
Wees ook nie so kieskeurig nie,
Jy moet tog ééndag sterwe.
Verwekker van malaria,
Sing maar jou laaste aria –
Nog een minuut vir grasie.
Al soebat jy nou nòg so lang,
Al sê jy ook: ek is nie bang,
Nooit sien jy weer jou nasie…
Hoe sedig sit hy, O, die kreng!
Sy kinders kan maar kranse breng,
Nóu gaan die vabond sterwe…Pardoef!
Dis mis! Daar gaan hy weer!
Maar dòòd sal hy, sowaar, ek sweer –
My naam is van der Merwe!

Madeliefies in Namakwaland

Waarom luister ons nog
na die antwoorde van die madeliefies
op die wind op die son
wat het geword van die kokkewietjies

Agter die geslote voorkop
waar miskien nog ’n takkie tuimel
van ’n verdrinkte lente
Agter my gesneuwelde woord
Agter ons verdeelde huis
Agter die hart gesluit teen homself
Agter draadheinings, kampe, lokasies
Agter die stilte waar onbekende tale
val soos klokke by ’n begrafenis
Agter ons verskeurde land

sit die groen hotnotsgot van die veld
en ons hoor nog verdwaasd
klein blou Namakwaland-madeliefie
iets antwoord, iets glo, iets weet.

Ingrid Jonker
© Ingrid Jonker Trust
From: Rook en Oker
Publisher: Afrikaanse Pers, Johannesburg, 1963

 The above poem in English translated:

Daisies in Namaqualand


Why do we still listen
to the answers given by the daisies
to the wind to the sun
what has become of the little kokkewiets

Behind the closed forehead
where perhaps a twig still tumbles
from a drowned springtime
Behind my word killed in action
Behind our divided home
Behind the heart locked against itself
Behind wire fences, camps, locations
Behind the silence where foreign languages
fall like bells at a funeral
Behind our land torn apart

sits the green mantis of the veld
and dazed we still hear
small blue Namaqualand daisy
answering something, believing something, knowing something

© Translation: 2007, Antjie Krog & André Brink
From: Black Butterflies
Publisher: Human & Rousseau, Cape Town, 2007
ISBN: 9780798148924
 

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