söndag 27 juli 2014

Poetry Slam - Team Contest, Heat 4, Day 1

Då har vi kommit fram till heat 4 i sommarens "poesicup". I det deltar två nordiska lag, ett kanadensiskt, ett engelskt, ett tyskt, ett franskt, och så Bellman. Ah, det sista var ett skämt - förstås. Det ska vara Jamaica.


*

Vi börjar med Djur-tema.

SUSSEX : from Dawn chorus / Sasha Dugdale

And once I rose and twitched the curtains apart
Expecting the birds to be pressing in fright
Against the pane like passengers
But the garden was empty and it was night

Not a slither of light at the horizon
Still the birds were bawling through the mists
Terrible, invisible
A million small evangelists

How they sing: as if each had pecked up a smoldering coal
Their throats singed and swollen with song
In dissonance as befits the dark world
Where only travelers and the sleepless belong

*

YUKON : Glimpse / Michael Eden Reynolds

Sight is a bird 
atop the spine.

Sleep is the twittering 
of the closed eye.

There comes a river of fish 
caught in dream’s light.

The bird spreads its wings.

Let it be a kingfisher, 
to carry this body of dream into memory.

Let it be a tide of swifts in the gathering dusk 
to dive like stars into that black cave.

*

SACHSEN : Vorfrühling / Christian Lehnert

Die Amsel zögert noch in einer Welt, 
die innen stumm ist, außen kaum zu fühlen, 
im Schnee. Als hätte sie sich vorgestellt, 
zum Fliegen sei ein Ton herabzukühlen,

der Wind sei ein bestimmtes Intervall, 
so klar wie Eis. Im Schwarm allein, das eine
gefiederte Erwachen, Widerhall -  
wie Schatten gleiten Vögel über Steine

in gläsernes Gezweig, in hartes Moos. 
Noch scheint die Sonne aus der Luft gegriffen, 
noch wirkt die Scheune völlig schwerelos, 
fossiler Zahn von Zeit und Traum verschliffen.

*

SJÄLLAND : ur Flugten / Christian Winther 

Han sagte lod sig glide  Fra Dyrets brede Ryg,

Ned sank han ved dets Side  Paa Mosteppet tryg.

Dog knap sig følte Hjorten  For Baand og Byrde qvit,

Udstødte den et Brøl,  Sprang op og kneised frit.

Med Bragen brød den gjennem  Den tætte, mørke Skov,

Den vækked de smaa Fugle,  Som sad der og sov;

Og længe hørte Svenden  Hver raslende Busk,

Og hvor Grenene de knaged  Ved de voldsomme Rusk;

*

NORMANDIE : Face the Animal / Jean Follain

It’s not always easy
to face the animal
even if it looks at you
without fear or hate
it does so fixedly
and seems to disdain
the subtle secret it carries
it seems better to feel
the obviousness of the world
that noisily day and night
drills and damages
the silence of the soul.

*

JAMAICA : From Yard Fowl / Olive Senior

Some find you loud mouth and simple, 
for every egg laid a big announcement 
a cackle, some find you 
the broody hen, not knowing all 
is meant to throw spies off the scent 
of your blood’s secret: you know 
the sky isn’t falling, geese don’t lay 
golden eggs, superior knowledge 
resides in the feet. 

You are mistress of maps to the under 
layer, to buried treasure. Why else 
do you nod your head and give thanks 
as you sup? With every scratch, 
woman’s luck you turn up.

*

ROGALAND : Av nåde / Torild Wardenaer

I skogen

om natten

et mørkt nedfall

av nåde,

av uglers nærvær

og av englers


Jeg

er en gylden dråpe

i en hvilende trekkfugls nebb

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