Poem
Marlene van Niekerk
ROCK PAINTING
Whoever set you upright here, little quagga foal,alone on your first legs, a birth moment
no bigger than a hand, wobbly and with lips
parted in fresh bleating, eyeless
in the first light, a mouth tentatively
seeking the udder, whoever posited you here,
Equuleus of the Cederberg, in the first raising
of the rear, in the precarious tensing
of the forequarters, has flung a red balance into the grey
one-way grain of rock, fashioned a gravity
of defencelessness that concatenates us, tourists
of oblivion, in emotion, compassion,
courage, connects us to your first painter
in the unspectacular patriotism of tenderness.
In our navel stirs the same brush, red ochre, eland fat,
in our sight the same dead stars,
we who over the ages emerge from the brown river,
noticing and renaming you, preserve you forever, Celeris,
swiftly vibrating shadow on this liminal rock –
no matter whether you perish, your snout smashed
against the leaden law of the mightier,
or gambol away on lanky legs, lovely, prancing,
in the wine-brown water of time.
(Brandewyn River, March 2012)
© Translation: 2013, Marlene van Niekerk
From the Cederberg suite
ROTSTEKENING
ROTSTEKENING
Wie jou, klein kwaggavul, orent maak staan alleenhier op jou eerste bene, ‘n geboorte-oomblik
soos ‘n hand so groot, wankel en met lippe
van mekaar in vars gemekker, oogloos
in die eerste lig, ‘n bek wat onvas
na die uier proe, wie jou hier oprig,
Equuleus van die Cederberg, in die eerste hefslag
van die agterkwart, in die prekêre styfmaak
van die voorwerk, het ’n rooi balans in die grys
eenrigtinggrein van klip gewerp, ‘n swaartekrag
van weerloosheid berei, wat ons, toeriste
van vergetelheid aaneenryg in ontroering,
mededoë, moed, ons met jou eerste skilder bind
in die onspektakulêre patriotisme van teerheid.
In ons nawel roer dieselfde kwas, rooi-oker, elandvet,
in ons gesig dieselfde dooie sterre,
ons wat deur die eeue opkom uit die bruin rivier,
jou raaksien, herbenoem, behoed jou altyd, Celeris,
snel vibrerende skaduwee op hierdie drumpel rots –
ongeag jy sterf, jou snoet geplet
teen die grou gebod van die sterkeres,
of op ranke bene wegspeel, lieflik, pronkend
in die wynbruin water van die tyd.
(Brandewynrivier, Maart 2012)
© 2013, Marlene van Niekerk
Uit die Cederbergsuite
Poems
Poems of Marlene van Niekerk
Close
ROCK PAINTING
Whoever set you upright here, little quagga foal,alone on your first legs, a birth moment
no bigger than a hand, wobbly and with lips
parted in fresh bleating, eyeless
in the first light, a mouth tentatively
seeking the udder, whoever posited you here,
Equuleus of the Cederberg, in the first raising
of the rear, in the precarious tensing
of the forequarters, has flung a red balance into the grey
one-way grain of rock, fashioned a gravity
of defencelessness that concatenates us, tourists
of oblivion, in emotion, compassion,
courage, connects us to your first painter
in the unspectacular patriotism of tenderness.
In our navel stirs the same brush, red ochre, eland fat,
in our sight the same dead stars,
we who over the ages emerge from the brown river,
noticing and renaming you, preserve you forever, Celeris,
swiftly vibrating shadow on this liminal rock –
no matter whether you perish, your snout smashed
against the leaden law of the mightier,
or gambol away on lanky legs, lovely, prancing,
in the wine-brown water of time.
(Brandewyn River, March 2012)
© 2013, Marlene van Niekerk
From the Cederberg suite
ROCK PAINTING
Whoever set you upright here, little quagga foal,alone on your first legs, a birth moment
no bigger than a hand, wobbly and with lips
parted in fresh bleating, eyeless
in the first light, a mouth tentatively
seeking the udder, whoever posited you here,
Equuleus of the Cederberg, in the first raising
of the rear, in the precarious tensing
of the forequarters, has flung a red balance into the grey
one-way grain of rock, fashioned a gravity
of defencelessness that concatenates us, tourists
of oblivion, in emotion, compassion,
courage, connects us to your first painter
in the unspectacular patriotism of tenderness.
In our navel stirs the same brush, red ochre, eland fat,
in our sight the same dead stars,
we who over the ages emerge from the brown river,
noticing and renaming you, preserve you forever, Celeris,
swiftly vibrating shadow on this liminal rock –
no matter whether you perish, your snout smashed
against the leaden law of the mightier,
or gambol away on lanky legs, lovely, prancing,
in the wine-brown water of time.
(Brandewyn River, March 2012)
© 2013, Marlene van Niekerk
From the Cederberg suite
Sponsors
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère