Having pondered  about different ways to deal with multilingualism in a performance, the poem 'Wenn man nichts hat' by Fred Schywek was performed simultaneously in German and in Dutch by Fred Schywek and Annmarie Sauer.

©: Bram Goots

From  Hafenklänge - Havenklanken - Sounds of Harbour:

Wenn man nichts hat
(für Brel und Mega)

Heute war der Tod bei mir zu Haus
aufgeteilt in selbst und Rauch
geschrien hierher durch eine Angst
gerufen von der Flöte auf dem Brett

heute singen die Engel zum erstenmal
die Zeit herein vom großen Tor

Heute waren wir am Hafen
sahen fliegend stinkend Fisch

sahen Körper im Fluß
sahen dunkle Wasser ohne Gnade

Heute ist ein Freund gestorben
heute ist heute tot

waren wir an der See
brachen Wellen wie wir es früher taten

sangen die Lieder der Trunkenbolde
roten Wein am Hals

Heute ist wenn man nichts hat
wenn der Vogel der Bär deine Mutter nie gewesen
im Knistern der sterbenden Flamme
im Trommeln des schwarzen Hans

die Bilder der frühen Tänze
heute ist der Tod zu Gast
und er hat sich genommen
zu früh &
ohne Gnade
ohne Musik
so kalt wie der kalte Fluß
da oben

da waren Sommer
gemeine weite Wege

ist es da oben
doch die Welt

da war Kohlenschmiere
da war Saxophon
da war

da ist etwas
falsch

wenn man nichts hat
außer das Leben

*
Als men niets heeft
(voor Brel en Mega)

Vandaag was de dood thuis bij mij
toebedeeld in zelf en rook
hierheen geschreeuwd door een angst
geroepen door de fluit op de plank

vandaag zingen de engelen voor ’t eerst
de tijd binnen van de grote poort

Vandaag waren we aan de haven
zagen vliegend stinkend vis

zagen lichamen in de stroom
zagen donker water zonder genade

Vandaag is een vriend gestorven
vandaag is vandaag dood

waren wij aan zee
braken golven zoals we vroeger deden

zongen de liederen van de dronkenlappen
rode wijn in de keel

Vandaag is als men niets heeft
als de vogel de beer je moeder nooit was
in het knetteren van de stervende vlam
in het trommelen van Zwarte Hans

de beelden van vroege dansen
vandaag is de dood te gast
en heeft voor zich meegenomen
te vroeg &
zonder genade
zonder muziek
zo luid als de koude stroom
daar boven

daar waren zomers
gewone wijde wegen

is het daarboven
toch de wereld

daar was kolensmurrie
daar was saxofoon
daar was

daar is iets
fout

als men niets heeft
dan het leven

Dutch: Annmarie Sauer

Yesterday's blog ended with a poem from Hafenklänge, Havenklanken, Sounds of Harbour. The books arrived finally after a two weeks plus anticipation. Here they are, with their own poster and greeting card. One bookshop has them for sale: The Groene Waterman and soon even the Standaard bookshop will carry the anthologies and individual volumes of poetry.
The authors from this book are : Fred Schywek, like a friend noticed a cross between Schiller and Arthur Rimbaud, and Wilfried Bienek, both from Germany, Ruhrgebiet2010 Cultural Capital of Europe area, staring in the Gegenlesung evening: Deutschland im Fadenkreuz, in den Hopsack. The other poets write in Dutch: Job Degenaar, who surprised us with his songs and the tearjerker: Junge komm bald wieder during the festival, Roger Nupie (see yesterday's post), and our city poet laureate Peter Holvoet-Hansssen with his idiosyncratic, surprising performances. And yours truly, writing sometimes in English and other times in Dutch. The creative yet loyal German translations are by Fred Schywek. Respecting the original, he turns them into real German poems one can read at a poetry evening in the Rhineland. For the English I am responsible in this volume.
We're a bunch of people intrigued by harbors, water, inland waterways, the sea. And at least one of us is intrigued by the sea-bears and seabeds... at least in  his poetry. Special in the book is that the six poets wrote Gezeit, Tij, Tide each in 2 quatrains. (I heard later a similar form under the name of Renga exists in Japan) This poem features in the book under the name of Charles Kléber - kind of Charley Glued Together... On the road from New York to Amsterdam American (street)musician Ken Post joined in the merrymaking of sounds of harbor and putting a bit of guitar blues under an antiwar blues poem, which you' be able to read in a later blog..
 Les Sons du Port sont arrivé - Fresh words are in the air...!
It is fitting the books arrived just when I was going to deal with that part of the festival evening.

The Master of Ceremony reads

Roger Nupie, how to describe his qualities? He is the president of the Nina Simone fan club and knew her well. He likes his diva's.  As an MC he is is funny, and efficient, keeps a good rhythm. As a poet he is can be bitter, sweet and naughty. The the anthology Sounds of Harbor he has a rather funny and and slightly skewed. He reads The embarkation is with a lot  of aplomb.

©: Bram Goots

TO THE LIGHTHOUSE

De liefde
verliest
haar getijden


Dat wegeebben blijft

ons bij versteend 
op de oever

Nooit

halen we

morgen.

*
ZUM LEUCHTTURM

Die Liebe

verliert

ihre Gezeiten.

Das Wegebben bleibt

uns erhalten, versteinert

auf dem Ufer.

Nie

holen wir

das Morgen.


German: Fred Schywek

*

TO THE LIGHTHOUSE

Love

looses

its tides.

This ebbing away stays

with us petrified

on the shore.

Never

will we make it

to tomorrow.

Two musicians, one a poet

Here the incredible duo enjoyed by all: Lucienne Stassaert, the Grande Dame of Poetry reading from the cycle: Long enough.
It is a heart wrenching end of love situation, sharply formulated, merciless in its honesty.

One of Lucienne's poetry's strong points is the rhythm. She played even in the Queen Elizabeth competition. When proofreading a translation of her work, she will try out the cadence of the new coat for her feelings and thoughts.

Here she plays with her friend Jean Demey.

  pictures: © Bram Goots


Jean  does grand improvisations.
That is how we met. He has a feel for the moods and the color of the words. His playing with Lucienne's words was in different shades of blues. in the past  he performed with poets as Paul Snoek, Hugo Raes, Willem Roggeman, Cees Buddingh and Gust Gils,

*

Lang genoeg

I

Lang genoeg quatre-mains gespeeld

zonder één keer op te kijken,

na te gaan zoals Orfeus

of mijn lief al dan niet nog bestond.

Lang genoeg bij hoge noten

een bas gemist bij het samenspel

om de toonloze stilten te wegen

vóór en na de kleine dood.

Jodelen kon. En zich te pletter ademen

zoals minnaars op het hoogst van de min

in volle vlam uit het licht vallen

en in den blinde uit elkaar.

Tot op een zeker zwart-wit moment,

juist afgesteld en gekadreerd,

de waarheid als een inmaakbom

van verrot fruit aan scherven sprong:

Hij speelde al jaren niet meer mee.

*

Long enough

I

Played a duet long enough

without looking up once,

checking as Orpheus
whether or not my lover still existed.

Long enough with high notes
missed a bass in this ensemble
to weigh the toneless silences
before and after la petite mort.

Yodelling possible. Breathing oneself to pieces
as lovers at the height of ardour
in full flame fall out of the light
blindly fall apart.

Till a certain black/white moment,
correctly focused and framed,
the truth like a preserving bottle bomb
of rotten fruit exploding in shards:

He hadn’t played along for years.

Rose Vandewalle here in the studio when we recorded the poems included in the different anthologies we are working on. Her she is reading her poems from Love in Holland and Flanders. She reads in a fragile, faltering voice which renders all the emotion that went into the writing of the poem. During the evening at the Permeke library she read Always at the bottom of the steep stairs

So today I post another of her love poems.
Wanneer ik zijn kamer betreed
valt op hoe overstuur hij is
zijn ogen schichtige vissen in een vijver

hij kan me niet meer thuisbrengen
geeft na enig aarzelen toe dat dit
de heerlijkste dag is van zijn leven

nu ik hem kom bevrijden
en hij reikt me zijn pols
waarrond de band met identificatie

dat het oorlog is, verkondigt hij
en hij met eigen ogen heeft gezien
hoe mensen om zich heen

gebrandmerkt en afgevoerd werden
tranen van angst slaan om
in tranen van vreugde
*
Wenn ich seine Kammer betrete
fällts auf wie durcheinander er ist
seine Augen kopfscheue Fische in einem Teich

er kann mich nicht mehr nach Haus bringen
gibt nach einigem Schwanken zu daß dies
der herrlichste Tag seines Lebens

jetzt da ich komme ihn zu befreien
und er reicht mir seine Hand
worum das Band mit der Identifikation

daß es Krieg ist, verkündigt er
und er mit Augen gesehen hat
wie Menschen um ihn herum

gebrandmarkt und abgeführt werden
Tränen von Angst schlagen um
in Tränen aus Freude
*
When I enter his room
it's obvious how disturbed he is
his eyes shy fishes in a pond

he can not place me
admits after a few hesitations that this
is the most delightful day of his life

now I come to liberate him
and he offers me his wrist
around it his identification strip

that it is war, he declares
and that his own eyes have seen
how people around him

were branded and deported
tears of fear turn into
tears of joy

Preparing for a performance

Preparing for a performance entails meeting the people one will be surrounded by for the next couple of hours.  LIGHT, COMPOSITION OF THE STAGE, SOUND CHECK: essential and Roel, the technician covered it all in a kind and gentle and professional way. Thanks to him all worked well and smoothly. When Lucienne Stassaert, Frank De Vos and Patricia van Nunen were done gauging the distance to the microphone, knowing were they would read or sing, they relaxed with a glass of excellent Portuguese cava.

The anker of the evening

Roger Nupie was the MC, he kept a good rhythm going, announced with a lighthearted seriousness. One could tell he was having fun doing what he did. See the sign Rurhgebiet 2010 ? Well it is in the framework of the Cultural Capital of Europe that this big translation project started.

Patrica opened the evening with a song by Jean Ferrat: Le poète a toujours raison - The poet is always right. She performs a capella and goes to edge of what is singable. I am always moved by her renditions...

Three day Festival is over

This the official handing over picture of three books: The Anthology Die Liebe in Holland and Flanders,Liefde in Holland en Vlaanderen, Love in Holland and Flanders, Felsenleiter by Fred Schywek and Werkworte, Werkwoorden, workbook by Annmarie Sauer.

The Small festival of European poetry is over. The last night in the library went as well as the night in den Hopsack , last Thursday. The preparation for this festival took eight month of work, planning and thinking for the two organizers. The choice of poetry, the projection of translations in Dutch, German and English, the different ways of presenting the poetry, all was appreciated by the audience. As one of camera operator said, we offered something for the eye and the ear, had different duets who read together indifferent ways, simultaneous, whispering, interspersed lines.... One singer full of emotion and presence and one enjoying the acoustics and ringing out... People had been encouraged to do something with the presentation and many rose to the challenge performing with a base guitar, singing a tear-jerking harbor song with a guitar as the frivolous ending. One poem was danced... People were curious at what would happen next.So all was well. The picture above is Fred Schywek reading with Frank De Vos an Anti War Blues... In the next days I'll thank each poet and performer with a text and/or a picture. Five languages were used in the course of the night...