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| Knysna Lagoon, Sydafrika |
***
Joan Metelerkamp föddes 1956 och växte upp med sina tre bröder i KwaZulu-Natal midlands, där hennes far var lantbrukare. Hon tog en BA vid universitetet i Natal, följt av en post-graduate i teaterkonst vid University of Cape Town. Hon arbetade sedan under tre år med att undervisa i drama inom olika utbildningsformer och därefter undervisade hon i tre år vid universitets avdelningar för engelska studier.
År 1998 flyttade hon med sin familj till Knysnaområdet i södra Kap-provinsen, där hon fortfarande bor.
Jag har valt ut tre dikter ur hennes bok Now the world takes these breaths från 2014.
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| Joan Metelerkamp |
Daughter, by Joan Metelerkamp
(from Now the world takes these breaths. Cape Town : Modjaji Books, 2014.)
Now that I see
how in her own life
she is. in immanence. not about
to be.
in being
on the other side of the earth
she is
married to her own life
as only she could be
my daughter -
how could I have loved her
too closely
how could I ever have loved
my mother too closely.
how in her own life
she is. in immanence. not about
to be.
in being
on the other side of the earth
she is
married to her own life
as only she could be
my daughter -
how could I have loved her
too closely
how could I ever have loved
my mother too closely.
***
Hennes verk har både till sin form och till sin frispråkighet jämförts med kanadensiska Anne Carson. Jag tycker nog att Carson tar ut svängarna lite mer än vad Joan Metelerkamp gör. Nästa diktexempel ligger emellertid väldigt nära Carson.
(From Now the world takes these breaths. Cape Town : Modjaji Books, 2014.)
Long day - long windy day alone resting my back.
artists, writers in my book fucking one another
like fishes or frogs - amen. So be it. Long windy day - everything
out of control all said discussed like death already - so?
There will be generations, still some with playful tenderness.
inclination to not entirely literalness.
intellectual erotic spiritedness. gayness -
moon rising moon going down.
children out of the fold as if out from under bushes
mists spilling. softening the valleys.
suddenly a jackal as if from nowhere
leaps out in front of the car.
We have talked. We agree. He doesn't want to be left.
I want him to be first so he shows me the way.
artists, writers in my book fucking one another
like fishes or frogs - amen. So be it. Long windy day - everything
out of control all said discussed like death already - so?
There will be generations, still some with playful tenderness.
inclination to not entirely literalness.
intellectual erotic spiritedness. gayness -
moon rising moon going down.
children out of the fold as if out from under bushes
mists spilling. softening the valleys.
suddenly a jackal as if from nowhere
leaps out in front of the car.
We have talked. We agree. He doesn't want to be left.
I want him to be first so he shows me the way.
***
I bokens avslutande dikt är rytmen enklare och harmonin ges plats. Det blir en sorts utandning.
(From Now the world takes these breaths. Cape Town : Modjaji Books, 2014.)
Never an October
you remember
so still -
then near the middle of the month
the first thick mist
all the frogs in Africa
crammed together
in chorus.
an accidental moment as you look up.
mid-afternoon's greyness. vagueness.
all at once it's all quite clear -
this is how it is
it's ok
it can go.
you remember
so still -
then near the middle of the month
the first thick mist
all the frogs in Africa
in chorus.
an accidental moment as you look up.
mid-afternoon's greyness. vagueness.
all at once it's all quite clear -
this is how it is
it's ok
it can go.
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