Fan 13 desimber ôf publisearret ensafh op Poadium de oersetting troch Janneke Spoelstra fan it gedicht The Twelve Days of Christmas fan de Britse dichteres en toanielskriuwster Carol Ann Duffy (Glasgow, 1955). It gedicht bestiet út tolve stanza’s en referearret oan in ferneamde Christmas carol mei deselde namme, sjoch hjir. Hjoed publisearje wy de earste en oan krysttiid ta elke dei in nije derby, sadat op 24 desimber it hiele gedicht yn oersetting op ensafh te lêzen is.
It gedicht jout op ́t stuit in protte opskuor yn de Ingelske media. Yn The Twelve Days of Christmas hellet de dichteres út nei de belutsenens fan de Ingelsken by de oarloch yn Afghanistan. Tagelyk krije ministers dy’t de steatskas leechhelje, te grou betelle bankiers en de celebritykultuer op ’e hûd.
Duffy is sûnt dit jier de Ingelske Poet Laureate, de Ingelske hofdichter, en fuort ek de earste frou, de earste Skotse en de earste iepenlik biseksuele frou yn dy funksje.
Wy jouwe earst it orizjineel en dêrnei de oersetting fan Janneke Spoelstra.
THE TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS
1
ON THE FIRST DAY OF CHRISTMAS,
a buzzard on a branch.
In Afghanistan,
no partridge, pear tree;
but my true love sent to me
a card from home.
I sat alone,
crouched in yellow dust,
and traced the grins of my kids
with my thumb.
Somewhere down the line,
for another father, husband,
brother, son, a bullet
with his name on.
2
TWO TURTLE DOVES,
that Shakespeare loved –
turr turr, turr turr –
endangered now
by herbicide,
the chopping down
of where they hide –
turr turr, turr turr –
hawthorn thickets,
hedgerows, woodland.
Summer’s music
fainter, farther…
the spreading drought
of the Sahara.
3
THREE FRENCH HENS –
un, deux, trois –
do not know
that French they are.
Three Welsh lambs –
un, dau, tri –
do not know
that Welsh they baa.
Newborn babies –
one, two, three –
only know
you human be.
Only know
you human be.
4
THE GRENADA DOVE IS CALLING.
The Condor calls from the USA.
The Wood Stork calls from its wetlands.
The Albatross calls from the sea,
on the fourth day of Christmas.
The Yellow-eared Parrot is calling.
The Kakapo calls from NZ.
The Blue-throated Macaw is calling.
The Little Tern calls from Japan, calls
my true love sent to me.
The Corncrake is calling; the Osprey.
The Baikal Teal calls from Korea.
The Cuckoo is calling from England,
four calling birds.
5
THE FIRST GOLD RING WAS GOLD INDEED –
bankers’ profits fired in greed.
The second ring outshone the sun,
fuelled by carbon, doused by none.
Ring three was black gold, O for oil –
a serpent swallowing its tail.
The fourth ring was Celebrity;
Fool’s Gold, winking on TV.
Ring five, religion’s halo, slipped –
a blind for eyes or gag for lips.
With these five gold rings they you wed,
then slip them off when you are dead.
With these five go-o-o-old rings.
6
I BOUGHT A MAGIC GOOSE FROM A JOLLY FARMER.
This goose laid Barack Obama.
I bought a magic goose from a friendly fellow.
This goose laid Fabio Capello.
I bought a magic goose from a maiden (comely).
This goose laid Joanna Lumley.
I bought a magic goose from a busker (poor).
This goose laid Anish Kapoor.
I bought a magic goose from a bargain bin, it
was the goose laid Alan Bennett.
I bought a poisoned goose from a crook (sick, whiffing).
This foul goose laid Nick Griffin.
7
THE SWAN AT COCKERMOUTH –
of a broken heart, one half.
The Mersey Swans, flying
for Hillsborough, wings of justice.
Two, married and mute on the Thames,
watching The Wave.
A Swan for Adrian Mitchell
and a Swan for UA Fanthorpe,
swansongs for poetry.
The Queen’s birds, paired
for life, beauty and truth.
8
ONE MILKED MONEY TO MEND HER MOAT.
Two milked voters to float her boat.
Three milked Parliament to flip her flat.
Four milked Government to snip her cat.
Five milked the dead for close-up tears.
Six milked the tax-payer for years and
years and years…
Seven milked the system to Botox
her brow.
Eight milked herself – the selfish cow.
9
BUT THE DEAD SOLDIER’S LADY DOES NOT DANCE.
But the lady in the Detention Centre
does not dance.
But the honour killing lady does not dance.
But the drowned policeman’s lady
does not dance.
But the lady in the filthy hospital ward
does not dance.
But the lady in Wootton Bassett does not dance.
But the gangmaster’s lady does not dance.
But the lady with the pit bull terrier
does not dance.
But another dead soldier’s lady
does not dance.
10
LORDS DON’T LEAP.
They sleep.
11
WE PAID THE BLUDDY PIPER
fir ‘Royal Bank;
twa pipers each
fir Fred and Phil,
fir Finlay, Fraser, Frank.
Too big tae fail!
The wee dog laughed!
The dish ran awa’ wi’ the spoon…
We paid the bluddy pipers,
but we dinnae call the tune.
12
DID THEY HEAR THE DRUMS IN COPENHAGEN,
banging their warning?
On the twelfth day in Copenhagen
was global warming stopped in its tracks
by Brown and Barack and Hu Jintao,
by Meles Zenawi and Al Sabban,
by Yvo de Boer and Hedegaard?
Did they strike a match
or strike a bargain,
the politicos in Copenhagen?
Did they twiddle their thumbs?
Or hear the drums
and hear the drums
and hear the drums?
**
DE TOLVE DAGEN FAN KRYSTTIID
1
OP ’E EARSTE KRYSTDEI,
in fûgel op in tûke.
Yn Afghanistan,
gjin kalkoen, stoofparkes;
mar myn leafste stjoerde my
in kaart fan thús.
Ik siet allinne,
op ’e hûken yn giel stof,
en streake de snútsjes fan myn bern
mei de tomme.
Even fierder yn ’e liny,
foar in oare heit, man,
broer, soan, in kûgel
mei syn namme derop.
2
TWA TOARTELDOWEN,
dêr’t Shakespeare fan hold –
turr turr, turr, turr –
no gefaarrinnend
troch herbiside,
it kapjen fan
wêr’t se har ferskûlje –
turr turr, turr turr –
hûnebeibeamkes,
hagen, boskgebiet.
Simmerske muzyk
swakker, fierder…
de tanimmende droechte
fan ’e Sahara.
3
TRIJE FRANSKE HINNEN –
un, deux, trois –
witte net
dat Frânsk se binne.
Trije Welske lammen –
un, dau, tri –
witte net
dat Welsk se bletterje.
Krektberne poppen –
ien, twa, trije –
witte inkeld
minske je binne.
Witte inkeld
minske je binne.
4
DE GRENADA-DO ROPT.
De kondor ropt út de Feriene Steaten.
De kealkop-earrebarre ropt út syn sompelân.
De albatros ropt fan de see,
op de fjirde dei fan krysttiid.
De gielear-parkyt ropt.
De kakapo ropt út Nij-Seelân.
De blaukiel-pappegaai ropt.
De lytse stirns ropt út Japan, ropt
myn leafste stjoerde my.
De teapert ropt; de fiskearn.
De Sibearyske tjilling ropt út Korea.
De koekút ropt út Ingelân,
fjouwer roppende fûgels.
5
DE EARSTE GOUDEN RING WIE FAN GOUD YNDIE –
bankierswinsten oanfjurre troch habsucht.
De twadde ring skynde mear noch as sinneljocht,
brânde op koalstof, nimmen dy’t ’m útdie.
Ring trije wie swart goud, o, foar oalje byt
in slange himsels yn ’e sturt.
De fjirde ring wie bekendheid, rom;
goud – knypeagjend op ’e tv – fan domm’n.
Ring fiif, de halo fan religy, loslitten –
in blyndoek foar eagen of prop foar lippen.
Mei dizze fiif gouden ringen freegje se dyn trou,
ast dea bist pakke se se wer ou.
Mei dizze fiif gou-ou-ou-ouden ringen.
6
IK KOCHT IN TOVERGOES FAN BOER HOBBEMA.
Dy goes lei Barack Obama.
Ik kocht in tovergoes fan in freonlike pipo.
Dy goes lei Fabio Capello.
Ik kocht in tovergoes fan in faam (leaflik).
Dy goes lei Joanna Lumley.
Ik kocht in tovergoes fan in earme trûbadoer.
Dy goes lei Anish Kapoor.
Ik kocht in tovergoes bij de oanbiedingen, it
wie de goes dy’t lei Alan Bennett.
Ik kocht in goes fan in sike stjonkert, dêr siet fergif yn.
Dy bedoarne goes lei Nick Griffin.
7
DE SWAN BY COCKERMOUTH –
fan in brutsen hert, ien heal.
De swannen op ’e Mersey, fleane
foar Hillsborough, wjukken fan gerjochtichheid.
Twa, troud en stil op de Theems,
sjogge nei de Wave.
In swan foar Adrian Mitchell
en in swan foar UA Fanthorpe,
swannesangen foar de poëzy.
De fûgels fan ’e Keninginne, ferbûn
foar it libben, skientme en wierheid.
8
IEN MOLK JILD OM ’E GRÊFT TE ÛNDERHÂLDEN.
Twa molk stimmers om har boat driuwende te hâlden.
Trije molk it parlemint om ’e flat te fernijen.
Fjouwer molk it regear om ’e kat te snijen.
Fiif molk de deaden om in close-up trien.
Seis molk de belestingbetellers jierren en
jierren oanien…
Sân molk it systeem om ’e kop te Bo-
toxjen.
Acht molk harsels – de egoïstyske ko.
9
MAR DE FROU FAN ’E DEADE SOLDAAT DÛNSET NET.
Mar de frou yn it detinsjesintrum
dûnset net.
Mar de earwrake frou dûnset net.
Mar de frou fan ’e ferdronken plysje
dûnset net.
Mar de frou yn ’e smoarge sikehûsseal
dûnset net.
Mar de frou yn Wootton Bassett dûnset net.
Mar de frou fan ’e bindelieder dûnset net.
Mar de frou mei de pitbull terrier
dûnset net.
Mar de frou fan noch in deade soldaat
dûnset net.
10
HEAREN HA NET LJEPT.
Dy ha slept.
11
WE BETELLEN DE FERDOMDE LILLEPYPKER
foar Royal Bank;
twa pypkers elk
foar Fred en Phil,
foar Finlay, Fraser, Frank.
Te grut om fallyt te gean!
It lytse hûntsje lake!
Fuort mei de leppel rûn de brij…
We betellen de ferdomde lillepypkers,
mar se spilen net ús meldij.
12
HA SE DE TROMMEN HEARD YN KOPENHAGEN,
dy’t in warskôging sloegen?
Waard op ’e tolfde dei yn Kopenhagen
de opwaarming fan ’e ierde opkeard
troch Brown en Barack en Hu Jintao,
troch Meles Zenawi en Al Sabban,
troch Yvo de Boer en Hedegaard?
Ha se in lúsjefers oanstutsen
of in akkoart besprutsen,
de politiko’s yn Kopenhagen?
Draaiden se mei de tommen?
Of hearden se de trommen
en hearre se de trommen
en hearre se de trommen?
**
(Oersetting: Janneke Spoelstra)