Poem
Daljit Nagra
SINGH SONG!
SINGH ZANG!
Ik run maar een van die winkels van mij pavaar ik van 9 tot 9 sta
en hij vil dat ik die pauze laat
maar ik doe die slot vanneer niemand daar –
vant bovenin is mij jonge bruid
vij delen die roti
vij delen die chutney
nadat vij hebben gevrijd
alsof vij roeien door Putney –
vanneer ik terugkom met mij losse schort
vort door die shoppers gewezen en gemord
hé Singh, vaar jij gewees?
jou citroenen zijn limoenen
jou bananen bakbananen
deze vieze kleine vloer moet een beetje gemopt
in die goorste Indiase winkel op
die ganse Indiase straat –
boven mij hoofd tik hoge hak die grond
terwijl mij vrouw op die web met die muis speel
vanneer zij twee kater strik op haar Sikhloversite
boek ze hen voor die aas tegen die kaas van haar prijs –
mij bruid
zij vloeken op mij mam
in alle kleuren van Punjabi
strompel dan als dronkenman
drijf die spot met mij pappi.
mij bruid
kleine oogjes van een pistool
en die buikje van een beertje
mij bruid
zij heef een rode borstelkop
en zij draag een tartan sari
een jekker en wat pumps
op die piep als die meisjes die al mij snoepjes gappen –
vanneer ik terugkom van die kietel van mij bruid
vort door die shoppers geroepen en gebruld:
hé Singh, vaar jij gewees?
jou verse melk is lauw
en jou brood is altijd oud
wat in die aanbieding is lig nooit in die schappen
in die goorste Indiase winkel
op die ganse Indiase straat –
laat in die nachtelijk uur
vanneer jullie shoppers stil onder de wol
vanneer die winkelcentrum keihardkoel
dalen vij af van fluisterende trappen
en gaan zitten op mij zilveren kruk,
vanachter die chocoladewand
staren vij langs die kortingstickers op het raam
naar die Britse stranden in die stralige maan –
op die kruk zeg zij elke nacht,
hoeveel vraag je voor die maan baby?
op die kruk zeg ik elke nacht
is helf van vat jij kost baby,
op die kruk zeg zij elke nacht,
op hoeveel kom dat neer baby,
op die kruk zeg ik elke nacht,
is onbetaalbaar baby –
© Vertaling: 2011, Jan-Willem Anker
Publisher: 2011, First published on PIW,
Brightey’ alludeert aan ‘Blighty’, slang voor ‘Groot-Brittannië’.
Publisher: 2011, First published on PIW,
SINGH SONG!
I run just one ov my daddy’s shopsfrom 9 O’clock to 9 O’clock
and he vunt me not to hav a break
but ven nobody in, I do di lock –
cos up di stairs is my newly bride
vee share in chapatti
vee share in di chutney
after vee hav made luv
like vee rowing through Putney –
ven I return vid my pinnie untied
di shoppers always point and cry:
hey Singh, ver yoo bin?
yor lemons are limes
yor bananas are plantain,
dis dirty little floor need a little bit of mop
in di worst Indian shop
on di whole Indian road –
above my head high heel tap di ground
as my vife on di web is playing wid di mouse
ven she netting two cat on her Sikh lover site
she book dem for di meat at di cheese ov her price –
my bride
she effing at my mum
in all di colours of Punjabi
den stumble like a drunk
making fun at my daddy
my bride
tiny eyes ov a gun
and di tummy ov a teddy
my bride
she hav a red crew cut
and she wear a Tartan sari
a donkey jacket and some pumps
on di squeak ov di girls dat are pinching all my sweeties –
ven I return from di tickle ov my bride
di shoppers always point and cry:
hey Singh, ver yoo bin?
di milk is out ov date
and di bread is alvays stale,
the tings yoo hav on offer yoo hav never got in stock
in di worst Indian shop
on di whole Indian road –
late in di midnight hour
ven yoo shoppers are wrap up quiet
ven di precinct is concrete-cool
vee cum down whispering stairs
and sit on my silver stool,
from behind di chocolate bars
vee stare past di half-price window signs
at di beaches ov di UK in di brightey moon –
from di stool each night she say,
how much do yoo charge for dat moon baby?
from di stool each night I say,
is half di cost ov yoo baby,
from di stool each night she say,
how much does dat come to baby?
from di stool each night I say,
is priceless baby –
© 2007, Daljit Nagra
From: Look We Have Coming to Dover!
Publisher: Faber and Faber, London
From: Look We Have Coming to Dover!
Publisher: Faber and Faber, London
Daljit Nagra
(United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, 1966)
Born in 1966, to Indian immigrant parents, Daljit Nagra was raised in London, and currently works in a secondary school. Nagra’s award-winning debut Look We Have Coming to Dover! earned immediate and universal applause. The Guardian praised “the ebullience of his word play, which stirs English, Punjabi and Punjabi-accented English into a series of funny and poignant poems that defy easy ca...
Poems
Poems of Daljit Nagra
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SINGH SONG!
I run just one ov my daddy’s shopsfrom 9 O’clock to 9 O’clock
and he vunt me not to hav a break
but ven nobody in, I do di lock –
cos up di stairs is my newly bride
vee share in chapatti
vee share in di chutney
after vee hav made luv
like vee rowing through Putney –
ven I return vid my pinnie untied
di shoppers always point and cry:
hey Singh, ver yoo bin?
yor lemons are limes
yor bananas are plantain,
dis dirty little floor need a little bit of mop
in di worst Indian shop
on di whole Indian road –
above my head high heel tap di ground
as my vife on di web is playing wid di mouse
ven she netting two cat on her Sikh lover site
she book dem for di meat at di cheese ov her price –
my bride
she effing at my mum
in all di colours of Punjabi
den stumble like a drunk
making fun at my daddy
my bride
tiny eyes ov a gun
and di tummy ov a teddy
my bride
she hav a red crew cut
and she wear a Tartan sari
a donkey jacket and some pumps
on di squeak ov di girls dat are pinching all my sweeties –
ven I return from di tickle ov my bride
di shoppers always point and cry:
hey Singh, ver yoo bin?
di milk is out ov date
and di bread is alvays stale,
the tings yoo hav on offer yoo hav never got in stock
in di worst Indian shop
on di whole Indian road –
late in di midnight hour
ven yoo shoppers are wrap up quiet
ven di precinct is concrete-cool
vee cum down whispering stairs
and sit on my silver stool,
from behind di chocolate bars
vee stare past di half-price window signs
at di beaches ov di UK in di brightey moon –
from di stool each night she say,
how much do yoo charge for dat moon baby?
from di stool each night I say,
is half di cost ov yoo baby,
from di stool each night she say,
how much does dat come to baby?
from di stool each night I say,
is priceless baby –
From: Look We Have Coming to Dover!
SINGH SONG!
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