De Amerikaanse dichteres Kay Ryan werd geboren op 27 september 1945 in San Jose, California. Zie ook alle tags voor Kay Ryan op dit blog.
THE WOMAN WHO WROTE
TOO MUCH
I have written
over the doors
of the various
houses and stores
where friends
and supplies were.
Now I can’t
locate them anymore
and must shout
general appeals
in the street.
It is a miracle
to me now—
when a piece
of the structure unseals
and there is a dear one,
coming out,
with something
for me to eat.
FELIX CROW
Crow school
is basic and
short as a rule—
just the rudiments
of quid pro crow
for most students.
Then each lives out
his unenlightened
span, adding his
bit of blight
to the collected
history of pushing out
the sweeter species;
briefly swaggering the
swagger of his
aggravating ancestors
down my street.
And every time
I like him
when we meet.
SHARKS\’ TEETH
Everything contains some
silence. Noise gets
its zest from the
small shark’s-tooth
shaped fragments
of rest angled
in it. An hour
of city holds maybe
a minute of these
remnants of a time
when silence reigned,
compact and dangerous
as a shark. Sometimes
a bit of a tail
or fin can still
be sensed in parks.
Niets gewaagd
Niets bestaat als één blok
dat niet in stukken kan worden gehakt.
Dus als er niets wordt gewaagd,
dat zijn geen loze woorden;
het is de ultieme inzet.
Vraag je je niet af
hoe mensen kunnen denken
dat de oevers van ruimte
en tijd er niet toe doen?
Hoe ze de grote bassins
leegtrekken tot op
slijm en salamanders na
en daarvoor nog dank verwachten?
Vertaald door Frans Roumen
De Amerikaanse dichter en letterkundige Nate Pritts werd geboren in Syracuse, New York, op 27 september 1974. Zie ook alle tags voor Nate Pritts op dit blog.
Forever War
In studying the anomaly
it was determined that holiday decorations
look sad out of season,
that there’s no excuse for the mistakes
of my people. Red paper hearts
on the front door into April,
a cauldron that doubles as a planter
in summer. Always the starscape
to help keep me honest, to remind me
that distance is easy to cross.
The analytic belt I’m equipped with
reminds me of an indescribable autumn
from one hundred generations ago
though even last year
I was someone else.
I was faced with a choice.
Proceed with the same core
or blow it up to restart
& maybe go further. Most of my programming
has survived into this new battle.
I can smell faint ocean
salt on the breeze & I have different
reactions for its presence or absence.
Now is the time to overcome problems.
I debate the finer points of being desperate,
of wanting things to remain
as they are, though they can’t.
I’d rather not go into details
since specifics make me queasy,
like in pictures when people put their heads
too close together. How can they stand
such forced intimacy?
I take off in search of my home planet.
My resolve is stronger than ever.
Zie voor nog meer schrijvers van de 27e september ook mijn blog van 27 september 2020 en eveneens mijn blog van 27 september 2018 en eveneens mijn blog van 27 september 2015 deel 2 en eveneens deel 3.
