De Tweede Ronde. Jaargang 16
(1995)– [tijdschrift] Tweede Ronde, De–
Auteursrechtelijk beschermd
[pagina 162]
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Vijf gedichtenGa naar voetnoot*
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All and nothingWhat you neglect
ignobly decays,
what you uphold
is inviolable, stays:
this much may waveringly be understood
in the frail counterbalance
between ill and good.
Whatever the course
of your certain retreat,
you promote your dismantling
while dragging your feet,
inconspicuous powers
conspire to delete,
the charges in store
are the tribute that's due
to nothing, to all.
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[pagina 163]
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GenoegDie uroloog, ortopedis
en 'n gewoner soort chirurg
doen alles om te vergewis
of jy van hulle gading is.
Dit gaan desnoods deur been en murg.
Deemoedig laat jy hul begaan,
bevoeg om weg te snoei of te laat staan.
Hulle las 'n aantal meters aan die baan
wat jy moet aflê. Stadigaan
sal jy jou tog wil terugtrek in 'n burg
aan die einde van 'n doodlooplaan
en daar teen eie tempo taan,
die verdere omweë spaarsaam oorgeslaan.
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EnoughUrologists, orthópedists
and surgeons of the commoner kind
clamp down on what may be defined
as ready grist for their keen mill,
piercing, if need be, bone and marrow.
Meekly you let them ply their skill,
equipped to spare, at times to harrow.
They add a good few metres to the length
you have to travel. Gradually
you'll grow unable to resist
the stronghold shelter in a dead-end valley
where at your leisure you abandon strength,
all further detours given a frugal miss.
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[pagina 164]
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Lindeboom, herfsSolank geel nektargeurende fraiings
die chlorofil massa deurweef
laat sy verstrooide gebare
gedagtes aan koestering herleef.
in bladgoud verander sy blare
as weelderige alternatief,
alles loop skitterend spaak.
Ontdaan, in die steek gelaat
en gespits op die opstandingstaak
sal hy dwarsdeur die winter waak,
neem hy elke ontbering vir lief,
gehul in die soet geheim
hoe om nooddruf met oorvloed te rym.
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Lime-tree, autumnWhile sweet-scented squiggles of gold
embroider the chlorophyll mass
its distracted gestures invoke
gentle gallantries from the past.
Its leaves are transformed into foil,
that sumptuous alternative:
it all goes brilliantly wrong.
Plundered and cruelly ditched,
doomed to revivalist toil,
its vigil maintained winter-long,
it starkly accommodates want
and pulls off a delicate stunt
squaring bare with flamboyantly rich.
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[pagina 165]
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StatusEnigeen ywerig genoeg en net nie te dom om professor te word
kan allerlei stellings verkondig
wat ronduit teen suiwer bevinding van sintuie sondig
en daarnáás haar of hom op aanvaarde klaarblyklikheid stort
gewigtig genoeg om as kenner erken te word. Verder onmondig.
Maar jý vir die wis en die onwis huiwerig omgord:
sonder status lyk alles wat maak dat jy is wat jy is minder grondig,
eerder toevallig, kortstondig,
onomwonde maar niettemin bondig
en buite gesagsgebied van die Sinode van Dordt.
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StatusAnyone diligent enough and not too obtuse for the job
of professor can peddle all sorts of ideas
confounding the straightforward facts you acquire with your eyes and your ears,
moreover fling her- or himself at whatever looks ob-
vious and ponderously pass for a pundit, some doddering old dear.
But you, so constantly forearmed though seldom forewarned,
without status, by nature abstracted, appear
incidental, ephemeral, short-
winded, outspoken yet concise and clear
and beyond jurisdictional reach of the Synod of Dordt.
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[pagina 166]
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MetodeJy strooi 'n handvol woorde op papier
en gaan na bed.
Wanneer jy wakker word moet jy ontdek
of hulle in noodgeval kan tierelier
en elke woord afwagtend op sy plek
'n onweerlegbare afspraak het
met wat jy vrees, verdra of vier.
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MethodYou go to bed just after having strewn
a snatch of words on paper.
When you wake you must find out
if they can hum a tune in an emergency,
if each word settled down to wait
chimes in irrefutably
with what you fear, endure or celebrate.
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