2nd European Festival of Poetry, 2011

Note the 17th of September in your diaries: That is the day you can come to the Permeke library in Antwerp to enjoy the poets, performers, musicians and singers. The program is coming together nicely. The performances are finding their level, how to show and let hear what we want to communicate. Poets from five countries will be present. Some poets you might have met and heard last year and that would be an occasion to get reacquainted with them and some are first timers and not of the least.  We'll be honoring a few Grandes Dames of poetry who turn 70 and 75 this year. 7 of the poets come from outside of Belgium: 3 from The Netherlands, 2 from Germany, 1 from France and one from the US. Although work of more than one American poet will be read  and performed.
So note the date: September 17, 8 PM.

As an appetizer a short poem by Sherman Alexie from one of the main features of the festival:The sounds of harbour, the upcoming third volume in this series: Harbors of the West.

Migration, 1902

The salmon swim

so thick in this river

that Grandmother walks

across the water

on the bridge

of their spines.

*

Migratie, 1902

De zalm zwemt zo

dicht op elkaar in deze rivier

dat Grootmoeder over

het water loopt

op de brug

van hun rug.

 

With permission of Hanging Loose Press

The Embarkation

The local Tv Channel had a call for boots men for Inland waterways, with a one year contract. I immediately thought of Roger Nupies rather naughty poem. You can hear him at the Small European Festival of the Art of Poetry, September 18, in the Permeke Library Antwerp, where he will MC the event en read his poetry too.

sms:foto duisburg/rhein 2010
© Portrait of the poet
De inscheping

O zeebonk, zoek mij
bij de blinde passagiers,
bij de bevaren kapiteins
en de jonge schippers.

O zeemaat, scheep mij in,
ik wil bootje met u varen,
uw rivier bakenen,
uw vlag hijsen.

O zeegast, ik hoor
uw bootsfluit al,
ik zie uw scheepslantaarn,
ik voel u aan boord komen.

O zeeman, bevracht mijn schip
sla mijn schroef achteruit,
gooi mijn roer om,
voel mijn vrijgezellenknoop.

O zeerob, uw dekknecht
zal ik zijn.
En nu, alle hens,
ahoy, kies het zeegat!
*

Die Einschiffung

Oh Seebär, such' mich
bei den blinden Passagieren,
bei den erfahrenen Kap'täns
und den jungen Schiffern.

Oh Meermaat, schiff mich ein
Boot fahren will ich mit dir,
an eueren Fluß die Baken setzen,
eu're Flagge hissen.

Oh du Seekerl, ich höre schon
deinen Bootsmanns Pfiff,
ich sehe eu're Schiffslaterne
ich fühle euch kommen an Bord.

O Seemann, befrachte mein Schiff
schlag mein Schraubenwerk heraus,
werf mein Ruder um,
fühle meinen Junggesellenknopf.

Oh Seerobbe, dein Deckknecht
soll ich sein
und nun, alla Mann,
ahoi, wähl' die Pforte hinein in die See!

German by Fred Schywek
*
Embarkation

Oh seadog look for me
among the stowaways,
among experienced captains
and the young skippers.

Oh sea mate, embark me
I want to sail with you
beacon your river,
and hoist your flag.

Oh sea bloke, already I hear
your boatman’s whistle
I see your ships lantern,
feel your coming on board.

Oh seaman, load my boat
lift up my rotor,
turn my rudder,
feel my bachelor’s knot.

Oh sea stud, your deck mate
I shall be
and now, all hands,
ahoy, sail through the sea gate.

English by Annmarie Sauer

Gegenlesung

If you love contemporary or classical German poetry and happen to be in or pass through Antwerp, we expect you September 16 th in den Hopsack (Grote Pieter Pot street) Doors 8,30 PM.

In Gegenlesung two German poets present their latest volume of poetry, Fred Schywek and Wielfried Bienek. Bienek will read from Blocksatz. The following poem is from Hafenklänge, an new anthology with work of six poets.

Land

Land. Land unter.
Land unter den Füßen.
Der Flug beendet.
Die Fahrt vorbei.

Wir falten die Arme,
vom Schwimmen ermüdet.
Entriegeln die Beine,
vom Fliegen im Krampf.

Heben den Kopf,
Hals Über das Wasser.
Atmen die Luft,
Kopf unter Wolken.

Die Beine bedecken.
Die Hände aufdecken.
Den Körper vergessen.
Ausbreiten am Ufer.

Zum Trocknen im Wind.
Die Luft sei geladen.
Sie sei unser Gast
*

Land

Land. Land onder.
Land onder de voeten.
De vlucht ten einde.
De vaart voorbij.

Wij kruisen de armen,
van 't zwemmen vermoeid.
Ontsluiten de benen,
van 't vliegen verkrampt.

De kop heffen,
hals boven 't water.
Ademen de lucht,
kop onder wolken.

De benen bedekken.
De handen ontbloten.
Het lichaam vergeten.
Uitspreiden op de oever.

Om te drogen in de wind.
De lucht weze genodigd.
Zij weze onze gast.

Geblazen het zout.
Weids smaakt het water.
Wij proeven de grond.
*
Land

Land. Land under.
Land under feet.
Ended the flight.
Over the voyage.

We cross our arms,
tired of swimming.
Unlock the legs
cramped by flying.
To lift the head,
neck above water.
To breathe the air,
head under clouds.

Legs under cover
on the cover the hands.
Forget the body.
Spread on the shore.

To dry in the wind.
The air be invited,
to be our guest.

Blown the salt.
Wide was the taste of water.
We tasted the bottom.

Tomorrow a poem by the other German poet, Fred Schywek, who will read from 'Felsenleiter' - Rockstairs - à suivre...

Die ewige See * The eternal sea

This is a poem by Fred Schywek, poet from the Lower Rhine. This is a preview of Hafenklänge, Havenklanken, Sounds of Harbour, Sons du Port, by world internet books production. 

*

Six poets write about harbours, wind, the sea and longing... To be published September 2010. Presentation in Antwerp during The 1st European Festival of Poetry.

Die ewige See

Die Seele

allein auf

weiten Horizonten

so weit geht

meine Liebe

Marsmenschen landen

traurig und scharf

mit rostroten Segeln

und schwarzen Mast

über dunklen unbekannten

Wassern vom Ozean

zwischen mir und tot

liegt eine dünne Feder

und zwei Hohe Augen

Monster erklären

die Geschichten

verschluckt im Krug

die ewige Frau

oh du sailor

dell the truth

Spiegel dich

Fliegender Kapitän

vom Deck

Scheiß auf Wind

Fluch es weg

Laß uns segeln

bis zum Ende der Tage

ohne je zu sterben

Fred Schywek

*

The eternal sea

The soul

alone on

wide horizons

so far goes

my love

Martians land

sad and sharp

with rust red sails

and black mast

over dark unknown

waters of the Ocean

between me and dead

lies a thin feather

and two High Eyes

monsters explain

the stories

swallowed in the goblet

the eternal woman

oh you skipper

dell the truth

Mirror yourself

Flying Captain

of the Deck

Shit on the wind

curse it away

let’s sail

till the end of days

without ever dying

Fred Schywek