Poem
Vahni Capildeo
Framboyán
Framboyán
Dat bomen waren geëvolueerd om andere bomen op te eten.Dat dat gebeurde achter in de tuin.
Dat dat voor het eerst werd opgemerkt in het huiveren van een kleine boom.
Dat de grotere boom zich neigde, door geen wind opgezweept,
een flamboyante boom en niet in bloesem, gestulpt in een bek.
Dwerg- en koningspauwenboom: vrijwel één soort:
achter in een tuin in de kindertijd in Trinidad.
Dat de kleine boom zichtbaar naar adem hapte; bedreigd,
maar stokstil, uitgespreid en opgeschud, dierlijk
maar groen; deze ja in bloesem als in brand
maar in vretende onvrede lucht opnemend
maar – veergepunt en volkomen in vlam – net een afstammeling
van wat over hem heen stond.
Nauwelijks in blad, alert en doelmatig,
gestapelde altostratus-stormschors die ontdekt wat hem toevalt
aanvalt om te nemen, hol tegen wisselvallig weer.
Meedogenloos zijn wij getuige van kleine ontwortelingen; wenden ons af,
bij elke onboomachtig herbegin; trekken
ons verder terug in het huis, voelen onszelf kwetsbaar;
lopen verbeten, wrikken de grendels dicht, met geschokt instinct,
weten, wij zijn de volgenden die de groene schaduw zullen toevallen.
Maar sluit de deuren (de goed gemaakte deuren: investeringen, vastgoed).
Het ding dat daarbuiten bezig is (die boom geëvolueerd om
andere bomen op te eten). Het is goed dat onze deuren goed zijn.
En inderdaad richtte hij zich op ons – de grond; het leisteen; het beton –
En inderdaad kwam hij binnen waden. Want onze deuren waren van hout.
© Vertaling: 2019, Han van der Vegt
Framboyán
That trees had evolved to eat other trees.That this happened at the end of a garden.
That this was first noticed in a small tree’s wincing.
That the larger tree was bending in, whipped by no wind,
a flamboyant tree and not in flower, bunched to a beak.
Dwarf and royal poinciana trees: almost one kind:
at the end of a Trinidad childhood garden.
That the small tree visibly respired; menaced,
yet stock still, spread and ruffled, animal
yet green; this one yes in flower as if on fire
yet in devouring distress letting air in
yet – feather-tipped and all aflame – just like an offshoot
of what stood over.
Hardly leafed, intent and purposeful,
stacked altostratus storm-bark discovering its due
moved in to take, concave against odds of weather.
Pitiless, we witness small uprootings; turn,
with each untreelike recommencing; retreat
further into the house, feel ourselves delicate;
stridently walk, shuddering bolts shut, instinct outraged,
know: we are next, who shall be due to fall under green shade.
But lock the doors (the well-made doors: investments, property).
The thing is busy outside (that tree evolved to eat
other trees). It is good our doors are good.
And indeed it centred in – the earth; the slate; the concrete –
And indeed it entered wading. For our doors were wood.
© 2019, Vahni Capildeo
Vahni Capildeo
(Trinidad and Tobago, 1973)
Vahni Capildeo is among the most respected and loved poets writing in the UK today. Opening any of their many volumes will demonstrate why, but no single collection shows the huge breadth of their range – for Capildeo’s reputation is based on ceaseless innovation and exploration. Their first book, No Traveller Returns (Salt Publishing), appeared in 2003 and the latest, Skin Can Hold, will be pu...
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Framboyán
That trees had evolved to eat other trees.That this happened at the end of a garden.
That this was first noticed in a small tree’s wincing.
That the larger tree was bending in, whipped by no wind,
a flamboyant tree and not in flower, bunched to a beak.
Dwarf and royal poinciana trees: almost one kind:
at the end of a Trinidad childhood garden.
That the small tree visibly respired; menaced,
yet stock still, spread and ruffled, animal
yet green; this one yes in flower as if on fire
yet in devouring distress letting air in
yet – feather-tipped and all aflame – just like an offshoot
of what stood over.
Hardly leafed, intent and purposeful,
stacked altostratus storm-bark discovering its due
moved in to take, concave against odds of weather.
Pitiless, we witness small uprootings; turn,
with each untreelike recommencing; retreat
further into the house, feel ourselves delicate;
stridently walk, shuddering bolts shut, instinct outraged,
know: we are next, who shall be due to fall under green shade.
But lock the doors (the well-made doors: investments, property).
The thing is busy outside (that tree evolved to eat
other trees). It is good our doors are good.
And indeed it centred in – the earth; the slate; the concrete –
And indeed it entered wading. For our doors were wood.
Framboyán
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