Poem
Ingrid Jonker
HUSH NOW, THE DARKLING MAN
On the green footpathof the horizon far
around the earth little one,
an old man trudges who wears
an open moon in his hair
Nightingale in his heart
jasmin plucked for his buttonhole
and a back bowed down by his years.
What’s he doing, mummy?
He calls the crickets
He calls the black
silence that sings
like the rushes, my sweet
and the stars which throb
knock-knock my love,
like the tiny little beetles
in their thin far ring.
What’s his name, mummy?
His name is Hush
His name is Sleep
Mister Forget
from the Land of Dream
His name is hush
he’s called, my sweet
Hush now, the darkling man
Mummy…
Hush now, the darkling man
© Translation: 2007, Antjie Krog & André Brink
From: Black Butterflies
Publisher: Human & Rousseau, Cape Town, 2007
From: Black Butterflies
Publisher: Human & Rousseau, Cape Town, 2007
Toemaar die Donker Man
Toemaar die Donker Man
Op die groen voetpadvan die horison ver
om die aarde skat,
stap \'n ou man wat
\'n oop maan dra in sy hare
Nagtegaal in sy hart
jasmyn gepluk vir sy oop knoopsgat
en \'n rug gebuk aan sy jare.
Wat maak hy, mammie?
Hy roep die kriekies
Hy roep die swart
stilte wat sing
soos die biesies, my hart
en die sterre wat klop
tok-tok liefling,
soos die klein toktokkies
in hul fyn-ver kring.
Wat is sy naam, mammie?
Sy naam is Sjuut
Sy naam is Slaap
Meneer Vergeet
uit die land van Vaak
Sy naam is toe maar
hy heet, my lam
Toe maar, die donker man
Mammie . . .
Toe maar, die donker man
© 1963, Ingrid Jonker Trust
From: Rook en Oker
Publisher: Afrikaanse Pers, Johannesburg
From: Rook en Oker
Publisher: Afrikaanse Pers, Johannesburg
Poems
Poems of Ingrid Jonker
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HUSH NOW, THE DARKLING MAN
On the green footpathof the horizon far
around the earth little one,
an old man trudges who wears
an open moon in his hair
Nightingale in his heart
jasmin plucked for his buttonhole
and a back bowed down by his years.
What’s he doing, mummy?
He calls the crickets
He calls the black
silence that sings
like the rushes, my sweet
and the stars which throb
knock-knock my love,
like the tiny little beetles
in their thin far ring.
What’s his name, mummy?
His name is Hush
His name is Sleep
Mister Forget
from the Land of Dream
His name is hush
he’s called, my sweet
Hush now, the darkling man
Mummy…
Hush now, the darkling man
© 2007, Antjie Krog & André Brink
From: Black Butterflies
Publisher: 2007, Human & Rousseau, Cape Town
From: Black Butterflies
Publisher: 2007, Human & Rousseau, Cape Town
HUSH NOW, THE DARKLING MAN
On the green footpathof the horizon far
around the earth little one,
an old man trudges who wears
an open moon in his hair
Nightingale in his heart
jasmin plucked for his buttonhole
and a back bowed down by his years.
What’s he doing, mummy?
He calls the crickets
He calls the black
silence that sings
like the rushes, my sweet
and the stars which throb
knock-knock my love,
like the tiny little beetles
in their thin far ring.
What’s his name, mummy?
His name is Hush
His name is Sleep
Mister Forget
from the Land of Dream
His name is hush
he’s called, my sweet
Hush now, the darkling man
Mummy…
Hush now, the darkling man
© 2007, Antjie Krog & André Brink
From: Black Butterflies
Publisher: 2007, Human & Rousseau, Cape Town
From: Black Butterflies
Publisher: 2007, Human & Rousseau, Cape Town
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