|
Poetry and Sleep
 Poems from South Africa
Published in a South Africa in an anthology 1910 by the following authors
DREAMS
Patricia Walter 2007
Why do dreams seem so real?
You know they are by how they feel.
You think you're there and done that too
but you're only home, not at the zoo.
You feel confused, a little foggy
look down on the floor and spot your doggie.
Now you know you're really home
been in bed, never did roam.
|
AWON ALA (YORUBA TRANSLATION)
Translated by Sola Falola
Nigbati o ba pa oju rẹ de
Wa bo sinu aye miran
Aye re
Nibi ti o wa ni aafin re
Ko si enikan ti o le gbe e kuro lori itẹ rẹ
O wa ni alaafia
Laipe, o soji
Ori e lori awọn irọri
O nnàgà fun nkan ti o gbehin ala re. |
| |
DREAM
Kai Shulman
When you close your eyes
You enter a world
Your world
You are in control
No one can take you from your throne
You are at peace
Soon you will wake
Head on Pillows
Reaching for the last of your dream
|
ALA (YORUBA TRANSLATION)
Translated by Sola Falola
Nigbati o ba pa oju rẹ de
Wa bo sinu aye miran
Aye re
Nibi ti o wa ni aafin re
Ko si enikan ti o le gbe e kuro lori itẹ rẹ
O wa ni alaafia
Laipe, o soji
Ori e lori awọn irọri
O nnàgà fun nkan ti o gbehin ala re. |
| |
Slaap
D F Malherbe (1881–1969)
Wat is die slaap ʼn wondersoete ding!
Sag op haar bloue oë daal die vaak
soos maneskyn diep waterkuile raak
om daar te droom in silwer skemering.
Vir laas beef oor haar lippe ʼn fluistering:
"Nag Pappie." Ek merk hoe langsaam hy genaak,
wat drome soet tot werklikhede maak:
in vaderarms rus my lieweling.
Sluit so my oë, God, wanneer vir my
u Engel wenk ter laaste, lange rus
en ek van wilde woeling hier moet skei,
dat my dan stille drome huis toe sus
en sterke Hand deur duisternisse lei.
Sluit so my oë, God, as ek gaan rus.
|
Sleep
Translated by Alewyn Burger
How strangely beautiful is sleep!
Slumber alights softly on her blue eyes
like the light of the moon on deep pools
to dream there in silver twilight.
A last whisper trembles on her lips:
"'Night Daddy." I sense how slowly he arrives
who turns sweet dreams into reality:
my darling lies in father's arms.
Close my eyes thus, Lord, when to me
your Angel signals for the last, long rest
and I have to depart from earthly turmoil,
so that peaceful dreams soothe me home
and mighty Hand leads through darkness.
Close my eyes thus, Lord, when I go to rest.
|
| |
Slaap teen my aan geleun
Olga Kirsch (1924-1997)
Slaap teen my aan geleun, die wind
ruk aan die stutte van die huis
the voor anker in ʼn stroewe stroom.
En ek wat buitekant jou droom
se warm onwete waak, omarm
jou harder om jou vas te hou
teen rukwind wat die strikke ontbind,
teen waters wat ontrafelend bruis
om vesels van die ankertou. |
Sleep leaning against me
Translated by Alewyn Burger
Sleep leaning against me, the wind
shudders braces of the house
at anchor in a raging stream.
And I awake outside your dream's
warm unknowns, embrace
you
stronger to hold you better
against the squall that loosens the ties,
against waters that fray and seethe
around fibres of the mooring-rope.
|
| |
Slaap Nou My Prinsie
M.I. Murray en G.G. Cillié
Slaap nou, my prinsie so klein; daglig het lankal verdwyn;
buitekant is dit al nag, moedertjie hou by jou wag.
Skapies en voëltjies rus, word deur die windjie gesus.
Slaap wyl die sterretjies skyn, slaap nou my prinsie so klein.
Doe-doe, doe-doe.
Wie's so tevrede soos jy? Wat jy wou het jy gekry;
maatjies het met jou kom speel, nooit het die tyd jou verveel.
Nou's jy versorg en gevoed, rustig en stil jou gemoed.
Wyl maan en sterretjies skyn, slaap voort, my prinsie so klein.
Doe-doe, doe-doe.
Afrikaans lullaby above is to the tune of Wiegelied by Mozart.
|
Sleep Now My Prince
M.I. Murray and G.G. Cillie
Sleep now, my Prince so small, daylight has long disappeared;
Outside it's already night, mother dear stands by your side.
Sheep and birdies do rest, gently are lulled by the breeze.
Sleep while the sparkling stars shine, sleep now my tiniest Prince.
Doo doo, doo doo.
Who is as happy as you? Your wishes have so far come true;
Your friends all came out to play, never were you ever bored.
Now you are cared for and fed, rest calm and quiet your mind.
While moon and sparkling stars shine, sleep on, my Prince so small.
Doo doo, doo doo. |
| |
Slaap
DF Malherbe (1881-1969)
Wat is die slaap ‘n wondersoete ding!
Sag op haar bloue oë daal die vaak
soos maneskyn diep waterkuile raak
om daar te droom in silwer skemering.
Vir laas beef oor haar lippe ‘n fluistering:
“Nag, Pappie.” Ek merk hoe langsaam hy genaak,
wat drome soet tot werklikhede maak:
in vaderarms rus my lieweling.
Sluit so my oë, God, wanneer vir my
u Engel wenk ter laaste, lange rus
en ek van wilde woeling hier moet skei;
dat my dan stille drome huis toe sus
en sterke Hand deur duisternisse lei.
Sluit so my oë, God, as ek gaan rus.
|
Sleep
DF Malherbe (1881-1969)
What is sleep? A wonderfully sweet thing!
Softly on her blue eyes it descends,
just as soos the moons rays reach the deep
peaceful pools,
to dream in a silver twilight.
From one last shiver of her lips comes a whisper:
"Night, Daddy."
I noticed how slowly her body is taken,
for what sweet dreams to realities make:
In father's arms rest's my beloved.
Close my eyes like this oh God, when
Your angel trips for my last, long rest
and I depart from this worldly agitation;
To my peaceful dreams Home to lead
and with your strong hand lead me through the darkness.
Close my eyes so, God, when I go to rest. |
| |
Middernag
Dis donker, donker middernag:
nader kruip die Zoeloemag,
kruip swart adders om die laer,
opgeblaas al deur die gras;
en geen windjie wek die slapers-
slaap is soet na arbeidslas:
droombeeld laat 'n kindjie lag,
moederarms omhels dit sag.
Rondom, geklem in Kafferhand,
smag duisend assegaaie, want
hulle het al nege lange dae
in somerhitte dors gely.
O, is die Dood ook so innig-bly
as op warm lyf hy lê sy hande?
Aan haar hart druk moeder sag
haar kindjie en slaap – dis middernag!
|
Midnight
It’s dark, dark midnight
closer creep the Zulu,
black adders crawl around the camp
overshadowed by the grass;
no wind awaken the sleepers-
Sleep is sweet after the workload:
vision allows a little child laughing
mother arms embrace her mildly.
Surrounded, clasped in native hands,
yearn thousands assegais because
they have suffered thirst
for nine long days
in summer heat
Oh, is Death also so inwardly glad
as on a warm body, he lay his hands?
To her heart gently, her mother hugs
her child to sleep – it’s midnight! |
« Back to Sleep and Poetry page |
|
