Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Vonani Bila

Friday Night

Hey, dude, I\'m telling you, young fellow;
When it’s spine-chilly cold,
Hey you, put on a jacket!
But when rain pours down,
It’s grand, don’t forget a raincoat.

Hey, buddy;
It’s Friday night.
The gumba is high at Sophie’s stokvel,
Sweet jazz at bra Rollie’s disco
We don’t need fools – no trouble-makers here.
We, the clever ones, are going there
To get down with the girls in tight jeans,
Holding Zamalek/Black Label, Hunter’s Gold
Cigarette on hand.

Shake Kiki’s wasp-like waist, Joe!
Kiki, open your heart please . . .
Joe was burning up for baby for ages.
I’ll shake the one with a Cocacola bottle figure,
Lindi, the ebony black beauty.
Lindi, open your heart please . . .
Baby, your loveliness drives me crazy!

The wind is blowing outside.
Lindi, hold my hand,
Come to my chest, feel me pulsating,
Your breasts warming my once lost soul . . .
Your dew-like eyes glistening with love make me pale;
Let’s relax on the lawn, hold me –
Caress me, baby,
It’s sweet!

Hey Joe,
Where is the condom in your pocket?
Don’t make yourself a foolish Thomas.
The time of trust is long gone.
It’s better to trust a boot,
It’ll protect me from the mud.
Or we simply can’t control the blood?
AIDS is no Verwoerd carving Apartheid monsters!
While we keep on waxing our ears,
Death shall lack mercy, old man.
Hey, Joe, I\'m telling you little fellow,
Geddit?
The time of fok-fok is long past.

Ravuntlhanu Namadyambu

Ravuntlhanu Namadyambu

Hey jitha, eka sệ laaitie;
Loko xirhami xi tsema nhlana,
Hey wena, ambala jasi!
Kambe loko mpfula yi wawamela,
Ku grend, u nga siyi jasi ra mpfula.

Hey, m’chana;
I Ravuntlhanu nimadyambu;
Ta duma, ta rara ‘xitokofeleni ka Sophie,
A ku laveki vo-bari, vo-bayizani.
Hi ya kona hina hi xeke emahlweni,
Hi ya sakamela na vo-baby lavo ambala leswo tlimba,
Hi khome Zamalek/Black Lebel, Hunters Gold
Sikireti exandleni.

Ninginisa xisuti-mbvomomo xa Kiki, Joe!
Kiki, pfula mbilu ya wena ka…
Phela i khale Joe a tshwa hi wena baby.
Mina n’ta dzungudza lowa xisuti xa bodlhela ra Cocacola,
Lindi lowa ntima, lowo saseka.
Lindi, pfula mbilu ya wena ka…
Phela vuphyembye byaku byi ndzi hlanganisa gelevendze baby.

Moya wu hunga khwatsi ehandle,
Lindi, ndzi khome voko,
Tshunela xifuveni,
Twana swigingi swa mbilu yanga…
Xifuva xaku xi kufumeta moya lowu ngi khale wu lahlekile.
Mahlo-ximberha yaku ya ndzi kwalarisa hi rirhandzu;
Ndzi khomakhomi baby,
Ndzi tsandzeka no hefemula baby.

Hey, Joe,
U na yona khondomo exikhwameni?
Tshika ku tiendla Tomasi makholwa-hi-ku-vona;
Nkarhi wo tshembhana i khale wu hundzile;
Swa antswa ku tshembha buntsu
Ri ta ku sirhelela endzhopeni.
Kumbe u nga hlula hi ngati ya wena?
AIDS a hi Verwoerd a vatleke xinkakaka xa Apartheid!
Leswo tihundzula vamadzingandleve
Rifu ri ta pfumala tintswalo eka munhu.
Hey, Joe, eka sệ my laaitie,
Verstaan jy nou?
Nkarhi wa fok-fok wu hundzile.
Close

Friday Night

Hey, dude, I\'m telling you, young fellow;
When it’s spine-chilly cold,
Hey you, put on a jacket!
But when rain pours down,
It’s grand, don’t forget a raincoat.

Hey, buddy;
It’s Friday night.
The gumba is high at Sophie’s stokvel,
Sweet jazz at bra Rollie’s disco
We don’t need fools – no trouble-makers here.
We, the clever ones, are going there
To get down with the girls in tight jeans,
Holding Zamalek/Black Label, Hunter’s Gold
Cigarette on hand.

Shake Kiki’s wasp-like waist, Joe!
Kiki, open your heart please . . .
Joe was burning up for baby for ages.
I’ll shake the one with a Cocacola bottle figure,
Lindi, the ebony black beauty.
Lindi, open your heart please . . .
Baby, your loveliness drives me crazy!

The wind is blowing outside.
Lindi, hold my hand,
Come to my chest, feel me pulsating,
Your breasts warming my once lost soul . . .
Your dew-like eyes glistening with love make me pale;
Let’s relax on the lawn, hold me –
Caress me, baby,
It’s sweet!

Hey Joe,
Where is the condom in your pocket?
Don’t make yourself a foolish Thomas.
The time of trust is long gone.
It’s better to trust a boot,
It’ll protect me from the mud.
Or we simply can’t control the blood?
AIDS is no Verwoerd carving Apartheid monsters!
While we keep on waxing our ears,
Death shall lack mercy, old man.
Hey, Joe, I\'m telling you little fellow,
Geddit?
The time of fok-fok is long past.

Friday Night

Hey, dude, I\'m telling you, young fellow;
When it’s spine-chilly cold,
Hey you, put on a jacket!
But when rain pours down,
It’s grand, don’t forget a raincoat.

Hey, buddy;
It’s Friday night.
The gumba is high at Sophie’s stokvel,
Sweet jazz at bra Rollie’s disco
We don’t need fools – no trouble-makers here.
We, the clever ones, are going there
To get down with the girls in tight jeans,
Holding Zamalek/Black Label, Hunter’s Gold
Cigarette on hand.

Shake Kiki’s wasp-like waist, Joe!
Kiki, open your heart please . . .
Joe was burning up for baby for ages.
I’ll shake the one with a Cocacola bottle figure,
Lindi, the ebony black beauty.
Lindi, open your heart please . . .
Baby, your loveliness drives me crazy!

The wind is blowing outside.
Lindi, hold my hand,
Come to my chest, feel me pulsating,
Your breasts warming my once lost soul . . .
Your dew-like eyes glistening with love make me pale;
Let’s relax on the lawn, hold me –
Caress me, baby,
It’s sweet!

Hey Joe,
Where is the condom in your pocket?
Don’t make yourself a foolish Thomas.
The time of trust is long gone.
It’s better to trust a boot,
It’ll protect me from the mud.
Or we simply can’t control the blood?
AIDS is no Verwoerd carving Apartheid monsters!
While we keep on waxing our ears,
Death shall lack mercy, old man.
Hey, Joe, I\'m telling you little fellow,
Geddit?
The time of fok-fok is long past.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère