Zócalo Poets – Toronto ! Meet Us in the Square !
Posted: August 31, 2011 Filed under: IMAGES Comments Off on Zócalo Poets – Toronto ! Meet Us in the Square !
Dionne Brand: “ Hard against the Soul ”
Posted: August 31, 2011 Filed under: Dionne Brand, English | Tags: Black poets Comments Off on Dionne Brand: “ Hard against the Soul ”_____
I saw this woman once in another poem, sitting,
throwing water over her head on the rind of a country
beach as she turned toward her century. Seeing her
no part of me was comfortable with itself. I envied her,
so old and set aside, a certain habit washed from her
eyes. I must have recognized her. I know I watched
her along the rim of the surf promising myself, an old
woman is free. In my nerves something there
unraveling, and she was a place to go, believe me,
against gales of masculinity but in that then, she was
masculine, old woman, old bird squinting at the
water’s wing above her head, swearing under her
breath. I had a mind that she would be graceful in me
and she might have been if I had not heard you
laughing in another tense and lifted my head from her
dry charm.
*
You ripped the world open for me. Someone said this
is your first lover you will never want to leave her. My
lips cannot say old woman darkening anymore, she
is the peace of another life that didn’t happen and
couldn’t happen in my flesh and wasn’t peace but
flight into old woman, prayer, to the saints of my
ancestry, the gourd and bucket carrying women who
stroke their breast into stone shedding offspring and
smile. I know since that an old woman, darkening,
cuts herself away limb from limb, sucks herself white,
running, skin torn and raw like a ball of bright light,
flying, into old woman. I only know now that my
longing for this old woman was longing to leave the
prisoned gaze of men.
_____
Dionne Brand was born in Trinidad in 1953
and graduated from University of Toronto in 1975.
She is black, lesbian, feminist – three powerful things.
Toronto’s Poet Laureate, she is also the 2011 winner of
The Griffin Poetry Prize for her long poem Ossuaries.
The companion poems above are excerpted from
Brand’s series “Hard against the Soul”, part of
her collection, No Language is Neutral
© 1990, Dionne Brand.
Colleen Ella: “ Johnny ”
Posted: August 31, 2011 Filed under: English: Trinidadian Comments Off on Colleen Ella: “ Johnny ”
“Johnny”
Trinidadian Soca song from 1987,
composed by Pelham Goddard,
S. Bartholomew and R. Imamshah.
(As sung by the irrepressible Colleen Ella
with the band Taxi)
_____
Johnny, ah come inside at dis pahtee,
Ah pay meh money to get on wassy,
So why de Hell yuh holdin’ meh damn hand?
Ah mus’ be tell you: Ah lookin’ for man !
Boy, leh meh tell you flat: Ah ain’t a girl like dat,
Ah duz always be-have mehself.
But when ah hear music play,
Ah duz feel to “break a-way”,
Ah don’t intend to stay on de shelf !
*
Come, leh we go and dance,
And leh we live to prance,
We go wine dong dis fete,
Till ah soakin’ wet.
Ah’m a music lover,
Havin’ Soca fever,
There is music inside me – drivin’ meh crazy.
Go and dance,
And let me live to prance,
We go wine dong dis fete, John-neee !
*
Johnny, ah walkin’ home, wicked hard-hard,
Ah come to pahtee to get on real bad,
When you see ah drink up meh joy-juice,
Leh meh tell yuh, all Hell duz break loose.
Dis mood ah in right now, we go have a big big row,
Cuz yuh behavin’ like a little boy.
Like you doh know what to do,
It would seem as though you bound to,
You going tuh stop meh spreadin’ meh joy !
*
Come, leh we go and dance,
And leh we live to prance,
We go wine dong dis fete,
Till ah soakin’ wet.
Ah’m a music lover,
Havin’ Soca fever,
There is music inside me – drivin’ meh crazy.
Go and dance,
And let me live to prance,
We go wine dong dis fete, John-neee !
*
Johnny, ah getting’ drunk in dis pahtee,
Not a ol’ man like you could stop me,
Ah come tuh drink and “garden” meh whole head,
It’s dat what have meh actin’ so weird.
Ah comin’ here to dance,
Come on, give me a chance,
Cuz ah fed up hearin’ pop songs.
When you see ah in dis mood,
Ah doh even feel fuh food,
All ah want is Soca to get on dong !
*
Come, leh we go and dance,
And leh we live to prance,
We go wine dong dis fete,
Till ah soakin’ wet.
Ah’m a music lover,
Havin’ Soca fever,
There is music inside me – drivin’ meh crazy.
Go and dance,
And let me live to prance,
We go wine dong dis fete, John-neee !
*
Johnny, ah stayin’ inside de pahtee,
Cuz ah love de ban’ dey call “Taxi”,
Ah like de way dem fellas duz real jam,
Make meh feel to shake up meh bam-bam !
When ah come out to fete,
Any man ah could get,
Leh meh tell yuh quite frankly:
Neveh need no tampeh fuh tuh make me frien’ly,
Ah jus’ have tuh buss up on he !
*
Come, leh we go and dance,
And leh we live to prance,
We go wine dong dis fete,
Till ah soakin’ wet.
Ah’m a music lover,
Havin’ Soca fever,
There is music inside me – drivin’ meh crazy
Go and dance,
And let me live to prance,
We go wine dong dis fete, John-neee !
_____
Trinidadian glossary:
wassy – spirited and uninhibited
break a-way – to cut loose on the dancefloor, solo
leh we go – let’s go
wine dong dis fete – wind down this party/celebration,
stay right till the end (sunrise)
Ah doh – I don’t
tampeh – marijuana
buss up – go crazy on (in a good way), bust up
Lord Nelson: “ Meh Lover ”
Posted: August 31, 2011 Filed under: English: Trinidadian Comments Off on Lord Nelson: “ Meh Lover ”
ZP_Lord Nelson_Calypsonian_album cover from 1977
*
Meh Lover,
I want to mention in my confession to you –
Meh Lover,
I must discuss what we should and shouldn’t do…
(Oh oh oh)
Meh Lover,
A good relation is a relation based on trust.
Meh Lover,
We too jealous and suspicious, it’s outrageous and ridiculous
to see we messin’ up we mind, (Oh oh oh)
how we messin’ up we mind,
Ah tell you: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,
Let’s have a good good time!
Meh dahlin’, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,
Let’s have a good good time!!
*
Meh Lover,
I used to worry about you having a second hand –
Meh Lover,
As if to help me fulfill me duty as a man…
(Oh oh oh)
I say Meh Lover,
you know we troopin’, we really stupid – for true.
Meh Lover,
it’s so amusing, way we using and accusing, it’s so confusing
the way they messin’ up we mind (Oh oh oh), the way they
messin’ up we mind, (Oh oh oh),
Meh dahlin’, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,
Let’s have a good good time!!
Meh dahlin’, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,
Let’s have a good good time!!
*
Meh Lover,
Your love too precious and delicious to lose,
And you too vital and special to abuse…
(Oh oh oh)
Meh Lover,
what good for ram-goat is good for gander and goosie, too!
Meh Lover,
you must remember, meh daily Lover, when you out yonder,
protect meh pleasure and don’t go messin’ up me mind,
(Oh oh oh), no doh go messin’ up me mind, (Oh oh oh),
Meh dahlin’, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,
Let’s have a good good time!
Meh Lover, OOHOO,OOHOO,OOHOO,OOHOO,OOHOO,
Let’s have a good good time!!
_____
Lord Nelson, 81 years old in 2011, is a singer and composer from
Trinidad and Tobago, who has performed calypso (ol’ time kaiso
to modern soca) for 50 years. He recorded “Meh Lover” with bass, drums
and “proud” trumpets in 1983.
Ghazal: The Ladder of Night
Posted: August 27, 2011 Filed under: Alexander Best, English Comments Off on Ghazal: The Ladder of Night
Alexander Best
” The Ladder of Night “
.
You threw me down a well, wall’s drawn in dung – I trust you.
I’ve hung a skull, it yawns to drown the bell – I trust you.
I’m elbowing this dark that swims below…it’s lovely.
I drip with singing, one good lung, till dawn – I trust you.
& tears my ale, I’m falling underground…and dreaming.
Way up’s the grate, mid-day’s a yellow wail – I trust you.
I’m bellowing, I’ve brawn to scale our strife…in octaves.
Await, new skill, my beaded brow is strung – I trust you.
Awake I’m dreaming life, my night’s a ladder…of strong rung.
The well was great, my will is even greater – I trust you.
.
(2003)
_____
Photograph: Fernando Ayuso Palacios: Ceramic tile mosaic, Tehran, Iran
Federico García Lorca: Ghazal of the Terrible Presence
Posted: August 27, 2011 Filed under: English, Federico García Lorca, Spanish Comments Off on Federico García Lorca: Ghazal of the Terrible Presence
Federico García Lorca (1898-1936)
Translation by A.Z. Foreman
.
I would have the water reft from its bed,
I would have the wind bereft of its dell,
The eyes of the night cleft down from its brow
And my heart bereft of the golden flower;
The huge leaves hear what the oxen say
And the earthworm dies of overshade ;
The teeth that hang in the skullmouth glint
And a gush of yellow flood out the silk.
I can see the wounded night in its duel
Writhing against the impending noon.
I resist a green sunset of venomed skies
And the ruined arch of suffering time.
But don’t shine your immaculate nude at me
Like a black cactus opening out in the reeds.
Leave me with my dark planets, let me ache
But don’t you dare teach me the cool of your waist!
*
El poema original en español:
“Gacela de la Terrible Presencia”
.
Yo quiero que el agua se quede sin cauce,
yo quiero que el viento se quede sin valles.
quiero que la noche se quede sin ojos
y mi corazón sin flor del oro;
que los bueyes hablen con las grandes hojas
y que la lombriz se muera de sombra;
que brillen los dientes de la calavera
y los amarillos inunden la seda.
puedo ver el duelo de la noche herida
luchando enroscada con el mediodía.
resiste un ocaso de verde veneno
y el arco roto donde sufre el tiempo.
pero no ilumines tu limpio desnudo
como un negro cactus abierto en los juncos.
déjame en un ansia de oscuros planetas,
¡ pero no me enseñes tu cintura fresca !
*
We are grateful to A.Z. Foreman for his translation.
Visit his site: poemsintranslation.blogspot.com
The Translator’s Own Poem…
Posted: August 27, 2011 Filed under: A.Z. Foreman, English Comments Off on The Translator’s Own Poem….
A.Z. Foreman
“Beyond Constraints”
.
Language will not be held behind the latches
Of culturedly thick skulls. Beyond intent
Humankind’s tectonic mindscape drives its course
Through times. Your language is a continent
Churned on the planet, changed by all it touches,
Forming a fissure in schismatic rock
Where the least hotspot’s sheer vocalic force
Shifts the sea’s stress. We might as well just talk
And savor it. The mountain will not move
Back to this moment, and the things you love
In this year’s dictionary will be no
Heirloom for great grandchildren anymore
Than plants that burgeoned on the ocean floor
In your backyard a billion years ago.
. . .
A.Z. Foreman is a Linguistics student who is
mad for the art of translation.
Visit his site: http://www.poemsintranslation.blogspot.com
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