Candlemass (Malcolm Guite)

 

Bij Maria Lichtmis

 

 
Presentatie van de Heer in de Tempel door Fra Bartolomeo, 1516

 

 

Candlemas

They came, as called, according to the Law.
Though they were poor and had to keep things simple,
They moved in grace, in quietness, in awe,
For God was coming with them to His temple.

Amidst the outer court’s commercial bustle
They’d waited hours, enduring shouts and shoves,
Buyers and sellers, sensing one more hustle,
Had made a killing on the two young doves.

They come at last with us to Candlemas
And keep the day the prophecies came true
We glimpse with them, amidst our busyness,
The peace that Simeon and Anna knew.

For Candlemas still keeps His kindled light,
Against the dark our Saviour’s face is bright.

 

 

 
Malcolm Guite (Ibanda, 12 november 1957)
Ibadan, Nigeria. Oritamefa Baptist Church. Malcolm Guite werd geboren in Ibadan.

 

 

Zie voor de schrijvers van de 2e februari ook mijn vorige blog van vandaag.

Hella Haasse, Willem van Zadelhoff, Esther Gerritsen, Kees Torn, Norbert Bugeja, James Joyce, Eriek Verpale, Santa Montefiore, Monica Camuglia

 

De Nederlandse schrijfster Hella Haasse werd geboren op 2 februari 1918 in Batavia. Zie ook alle tags voor Hella Haasse op dit blog.

Uit: Gentlemen of Tea (Vertaald doorJane Fenoulhet)

“He stood at the edge of the jungle in the deep, cool shade. Patches of sunlight dappled the ground at his feet. When he looked up he could see the fierce gleam of the midday sky behind the mass of foliage moving above him. The ground was still damp from the last rainfall. He inhaled the smell of greenness, of Gambung. He heard the wind whispering in the treetops, a rustling and a soft cracking and creaking from within the tangle of vegetation.
A stone with her name and dates had been set into the stonework before him. The stone to the right bore no name. A little further was another grave without a stone. Forty-five years ago, on this spot among the trees, he had planted his first tea.
He leaned on the walking stick which for some time now he had been unable to do without. The dull, gnawing sensation deep inside him was not a pain – not yet. He knew it would always be there, that something (he didn’t know the name of his illness) was consuming him from within, was hollowing him out. The limits of his existence had come into view. This would be his last visit to Gambung.
For a year he had been living in Bandung with Bertha, in the house he had bought there in 1907, but had never moved into. The tenant had handed it over to him temporarily. Not far from there his third stone-built house, a grand edifice where Jenny would have been happy, with spacious verandahs, high ceilings, marble floors, was taking shape. Disguising the seriousness of his condition, he had taken a trip to Batavia together with Bertha, to order the furniture and lamps that Jenny would have chosen. The house stood in splendid grounds called Kebun Karet which the local population revered as an almost holy place because of a group of ancient waringin trees which grew there. He would leave this white house, built in a balanced, modern style, to his children, a place where they could meet one another when they came to the town from Gambung, Malabar or Negla: a Kerkhoven family house, a Netherlands Indies ‘Hunderen’.
He was here to say goodbye to Gambung. One last time he had gone round the factory, that row of sheds with their new machines for withering, drying and sorting. Among the people working there he had seen men and women who had grown up in Gambung village, children of Martasan and Muhiam and Kaidan and Muntayas and Sastra, the first inhabitants.”

 

 
Hella Haasse (2 februari 1918 – 29 september 2011)
Hier met Godfried Bomans op een boekenmarkt in 1966

Continue reading “Hella Haasse, Willem van Zadelhoff, Esther Gerritsen, Kees Torn, Norbert Bugeja, James Joyce, Eriek Verpale, Santa Montefiore, Monica Camuglia”

Dorien de Wit wint Turing Nationale Gedichtenwedstrijd

 

Dorien de Wit wint Turing Nationale Gedichtenwedstrijd

De Nederlandse dichteres, schrijfster en beeldend kunstenaar Dorien de Wit heeft de Turing Gedichtenwedstrijd 2017 gewonnen. Voor haar gedicht ‘Legenda’ ontving ze de geldprijs van 10.000 euro. Dat werd woensdagavond bekendgemaakt in het NOS-radioprogramma Met het Oog op Morgen. Dorien de Wit publiceerde gedichten en kort proza in Hollands Maandblad, De Optimist en Tortuca. Bij dit laatste tijdschrift was zij een aantal jaren redacteur. In 2010 was zij een jaar lang medewerker bij Meander Magazine.

 

Legenda

Een lijn op papier is een grens tussen twee vlakken
Een golvende lijn betekent dat de grens beweegt
Twee golvende lijnen onder elkaar zijn water

Mijn vingertoppen maken afdrukken op alles wat ik aanraak
Elke vinger heeft een eigen patroon als hoogtelijnen op een plattegrond
Ik laat een spoor achter op de tafel, de potloden, mijn glas

In de bergen is de horizon een golvende lijn
Staand op een berg ben ik onderdeel van die lijn
Ik pak de bovenste steen op en verander de horizon

De steen is een bergtop die in mijn handpalm past
Een bergtop die ik in het dal gooi

 

 

 
Dorien de Wit (’s-Hertogenbosch, 1980)