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Small bird singing in a bush




AFRICA IN VERSES

Рой Кемпбелл (1901 – 1957) – южноафриканский поэт и переводчик.

 

  • В молодости провалил экзамены в Оксфорд.
  • Вёл богемную жизнь, много пил.
  • Выпускал журнал «Удар бича» в Южной Африке.
  • Не любил атеистов и коммунистов.
  • В годы Второй мировой воевал в рядах британской армии.
  • Дружил с Толкином, а вот с Льюисом не сошёлся во взглядах.
  • Работал на BBC.
  • Погиб в автокатастрофе.

Roy Campbell

The Zebras

 

From the dark woods that breathe of fallen showers,

Harnessed with level rays in golden reins,

The zebras draw the dawn across the plains

Wading knee-deep among the scarlet flowers.

The sunlight, zithering their flanks with fire,

Flashes between the shadows as they pass

Barred with electric tremors through the grass

Like wind along the gold strings of a lyre.

 

Into the flushed air snorting rosy plumes

That smoulder round their feet in drifting fumes,

With dove-like voices call the distant fillies,

While round the herd the stallion wheels his flight,

Engine of beauty volted with delight

To roll his mare among the trampled lilies.

 

Roy Campbell

Anadyomene

 

Maternal Earth stirs redly from beneath

Her blue sea-blanket and her quilt of sky,

A giant Anadyomene from the sheath

And chrysalis of darkness; till we spy

Her vast barbaric haunches, furred with trees,

Stretched on the continents, and see her hair

Combed in a surf of fire along the breeze

To curl about the dim sierras, where

Faint snow-peaks catch the sun's far-swivelled beams:

And, tinder to his rays, the mountain-streams

Kindle, and volleying with a thunderstroke

Out of their roaring gullies, burst in smoke

To shred themselves as fine as women's hair,

And hoop gay rainbows on the sunlit air.

 

 

Roy Campbell

Autumn

 

I love to see, when leaves depart,

The clear anatomy arrive,

Winter, the paragon of art,

That kills all forms of life and feeling

Save what is pure and will survive.

 

Already now the clanging chains

Of geese are harnessed to the moon:

Stripped are the great sun-clouding planes:

And the dark pines, their own revealing,

Let in the needles of the noon.

 

Strained by the gale the olives whiten

Like hoary wrestlers bent with toil

And, with the vines, their branches lighten

To brim our vats where summer lingers

In the red froth and sun-gold oil.

 

Soon on our hearth's reviving pyre

Their rotted stems will crumble up:

And like a ruby, panting fire,

The grape will redden on your fingers

Through the lit crystal of the cup.

Агостиньо Нето (1922 – 1979) – первый президент Народной Республики Ангола.

  • Председатель МПЛА – Партии Труда (она же – Народное движение за освобождение Анголы)
  • Сидел в тюрьме за участие в национально-освободительном движении.
  • Увлекался марксизмом. Став президентом, взял курс на социализм.
  • Свои лучшие стихи посвятил жене – португалке.
  • Умер в Москве после онкологической операции

 

Agostinho Neto

Night

(Translation into English

by Dr. Y., Afrolegends.com)

 

I live

in the dark quarters of the world

without light and life.

 

I fumbled through the

streets

leaning on my dreams

stumbling on

slavery

to my desire to be.

 

Slave quarters

worlds of misery

dark quarters.

 

Where the wills were diluted

and the men were confused

with things.

 

I walk in unknown

streets without

tripping

Streets soaked in with mystical light and

the terror arm of ghosts.

 

The night is also dark.

 

 

Исмаил Йоуберт (1920 – 2002) – южноафриканский поэт и писатель.

  • В раннем детстве потерял родителей (мать была турчанка, отец – египтянин).
  • Публиковался под псевдонимом Татамкулу Африка (в переводе с коса – «Бабушка Африка»).
  • Свою первую книгу выпустил в 17 лет, вторую – в 67 лет.
  • Сражался на фронтах Второй мировой и в Северной Африке.
  • В годы апартеида получил право остаться в белом Районе №6, но отказался из принципа.
  • Арестован южноафриканским правительством как террорист, сидел в одной тюрьме с Нельсоном Манделой.

 

 

Tatamkhulu Afrika

SMALL BIRD SINGING IN A BUSH

 

Small bird in a bush:

cars in the street rush

past it like the Gadarene swine,

line upon line.

 

Soft feathers fluff

in a lean wind, rough

as a rasp in the leaves’ green,

brooming the earth clean.

 

Cognisant of none

save the strengthening sun,

the blood of its dawn

still red on the hill,

 

it sings and it sings,

repetitive rings

and showers of sound

seeming profound

 

to the shallows in me,

but, in reality,

only a bird’s things:

sex and seed, rain on the wings,

 

consciousness of wamth and light,

withdrawal of the night,

the wind’s suddenness,

or its silences.

 

All this I know,

and no less know

its innocence, my prescience,

and which the better sense,

 

and which the finer face,

and which the saving grace:

self-seeking orison

or this simple hymnal to the sun?

 

 

Патрик Куллинан (1933 – 2011) – южноафриканский поэт и биограф.

  • Родился в семье владельца алмазной шахты.
  • Учился в Оксфорде.
  • Пытался возродить южноафриканскую поэзию и с этой целью создал журнал «Кровавая лошадь».
  • Выступал против апартеида.
  • Считался лучшим южноафриканским поэтом конца XX века.
  • Активно поддерживал юных авторов.

 

Patrick Cullinan

NORTH

 

This morning we moved North again

Through strange bush.

We know the enemy still follows:

By night we see their fires,

By day their dust.

 

The old men talk, still,

Of our ancestors from North:

About the rich forests

And swarming game,

And of our return

Which is ordained

In the stars.

I see no sign of this North.

There are smaller trees

And unknown roots, more snakes

And fewer birds.

On a long journey

The land must change.

 

I think they will cut us off tomorrow.

There was dust this evening

On our right flank. Is it because

They do not want to fight

Among the hills ahead?

Mountains were our country:

They fear ambush and they are right.

There is no mercy between us:

They are so many.

 

On watch tonight I stare

At one point in the blank sky.

A star glitters. At once

It is there, as though my staring

Brought it out.

Was it ordained?

This star is in the South.

 

The women and the children sleep

In the warm heart of the camp.

It is not death I fear

But the thought that birth will stop.

I fear the end of my people.

 

Patrick Cullinan

TO HAVE LOVE

 

To have love and then lose it:

the white hail in the orchard

lying with leaves it has stripped

and the storm moving away.

 

 

Нгватило Мавийу (1983) – кенийская поэтесса, певица, актриса.

  • В своих выступлениях объединяет поэзию, музыку и театральное искусство.
  • Учится на магистра изящных искусств в университете Британской Колумбии

 

Ngwatilo Mawiyoo

FLAG AND FUTURE

They declared black the colour of my people,

the Luo and the Taita and every shade within,

including them who chose here over past homes.

Green signified the land and its fertility,

of Marsabit and Muranga and Malindi,

every altitude and region between.

 

Red was the blood spilled till ’63 in wars

our own and not, every encounter known

and shrouded in silence a declaration

of our right to direct our destiny. White

was the way they hoped we would live

for posterity: in peace, love and unity.

 

But in the city blood spews as rocks fly

to kill kinship, and police in turn

set young limbs in their sights

every temple hot and righteous

vengeful fists on freedoms fields

 

and blood spews in the Rift Valley

an artery bearing a jagged rift cut

a century deep, so we fight and die today

to honor the memory though

there are healing-salts at Magadi.

 

Mourning, and being mourned,

I see the flag and hope aloud now:

white stripes – light this night

bring peace, love, bind us whole.

 

Let this rich blood build and heal us,

warm and show us how green

Mt Kenya, Turkana, Kibera,

how precious still Ancient Ones see them be.

 

Уильям Каллен Брайант (1794 – 1878) – американский поэт, журналист и редактор газеты «New York Post».

  • Прославился в возрасте 14 лет, написав политическую сатиру на президента США Томаса Джефферсона.
  • В колледже изучал древние языки.
  • Отказался от карьеры адвоката, чтобы стать редактором.
  • Был одним из инициаторов создания республиканской партии США.
  • Считается одним из лучших переводчиков Гомера на английский язык.

 

 

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