TOO MANY TIMES WE DIE
© Farouk Asvat
There
are too many handwashing ceremonies
Too
many graves to clean
Too
many heads to shave
Black
bands to wear
Too
many times we go down
On
our knees
In
jubilation
Or
supplication
We
go down
Too
many times
For
the keepers of the flame
Think
too often
Too
close
To
the keepers of the kingdom of hunger:
We
are caught
In
the past,
In
gestures
That
in the end
Mean
nothing
As
we die
Every
day
In
spite of the stale bread
Put
into our mouths
And
the hardness of our lives
The
bullets still pass through
While
wildfire love
Burns
to ashes
And
the hearth of love
Feeds
patiently on our bodies
Flaming
into a new warmth each day
As
city fears sprout
And
the rural nostalgia returns
Like
the innocence of stolen fruit,
Hymns
smelling of smoke and too many bodies
Or
the memory of growing like mielies in the yard
Or
first love returning
Like
a good song
Hitting
you in the chest
But
love is a pain
We
began to learn too early
As
we grew older
As
those that loved me
And
laughed at my misery
Returned
to miss me again
As
I drifted away
Like
a cloud within reach
A
familiar smell in a strange place
Or
the lives that pass us
In
the night
But
we will not cover our heads in ash
Too
many times we have thrown loam
Over
the fresh bodies of friends and strangers
Too
many times we have laughed with fear
Too
many times swallowed our hearts back
To
where they belong
But
through it all
A
Black Christmas of rejoicing
The
dusty storms of August
Through
the cold mist of a working morning
Or
the smoky smog that greets us home
We
have learnt another bearing,
Defiance
in the midst of slavery
Pride
in the heritage of our selves
As
the great drum,
Beaten
leather of blood,
Talks
to the night
© farouk asvat
composed: 1985 [Johannesburg, South Africa
under apartheid]
[] Acknowledgements:
Too Many Times We Die was previously published in:
A Celebration of Flames (donker, p65, 1987);
Sesame 9 (Renoster Books, Johannesburg, p7, 1987);
Dokumente
Texte und Tendenzen VIII (Evangelische Akademie, Germany, p153, 1987);
Matatu 3(4) ed G Davis, M Manaka (Göttingen, Germany, p183, 1988);
A Celebration of Flames (Heller Fund, UC Berkeley, California,
p55, 1988);
Te Dikwijls Sterven Wij: Dutch
translation by Irene Scheltes (1989);
The Berkeley Poetry Review (Berkeley,
California, USA, #23/24, p129, 1990);
African
Literature In The Eighties (Matatu 10),
ed D Riemenschneider, F
Schulze-Engler,
(Rodopi, Amsterdam, Netherlands &
Atlanta, p`, 1993);
A Celebration of
Flames (piquant publications, p85, 2007);
www.faroukasvat-poems.blogspot.com
(05.06.2012);
A Celebration Of Flames (kindle, 2014);
A Celebration Of Flames (amazon paperback, p83, 2014).
______________________________________________________________
[§] Books
by Farouk Asvat:
● Sadness In The House Of Love (novel)
● The Gathering Of The Storm (novel)
● I Dream In Long Sentences (poetry)
● The Wind Still Sings Sad
Songs (poetry)
● A Celebration Of Flames (poetry)
● The Time Of Our Lives (poetry)
● Bra Frooks … (poetry)*
● The Paanies Are Coming (short
stories)*
● In The
House Of Love (novel)*
● Weapons Of Words
(comparative literature &
literary criticism)
¨ all my books are now available on amazon: in
paperback & kindle
______________________________________________________________
© farouk asvat. All rights reserved.
Farouk
Asvat asserts his moral right to be
identified as the author of this work.
No part of this publication may
be reproduced by any means whatsoever, or transmitted in any form or any means
whatsoever, mechanical or electronic, including recording, printing,
photocopying, or via any computerised means or media, including the internet. This publication shall also not be stored in
a retrieval system. And the writing
shall not be sold, lent, hired, resold or circulated in any form or binding or
cover other than that in which it is published,
without the prior permission of the author in writing.
Permission
to publish or reproduce the writings in any format can be obtained from the
author.
Reproduction
of this work without permission, except for scholarly & nonprofit purposes,
is
liable to a payment of 10, 000 ren men bi or US$ 1,500.
farouk asvat can be contacted at: farouk.asvat@gmail.com
[] please check out my blogs @:
weapons of words: www.faroukasvat-viewpoint.blogspot.com
piquante: www.faroukasvat-piquant.blogspot.com
books by farouk asvat: www.faroukasvat-books.blogspot.com
[] also link up on:
google+: www.google.com/+faroukasvat
linkedin: www.linkedin.com/farouk-asvat
facebook: www.facebook.com/faroukasvat
youtube: www.youtube.com/c/faroukasvat
twitter: www.twitter.com/faroukasvat
_______________________________________________________
TE DIKWIJLS STERVEN WIJ
Dutch translation by Irene Scheltes
Er zijn
teveel rituele wassingen
Teveel
graven om the reinigen
Teveel
hoofden om te dragen
Zwarte
banden onm te dragen
Te dikwijls
knielen wij neer ...
Jubelend
Of smekend
Wij knielen
Te dikwijls neer
Want de
hoeders van de vlam
Denken te
vaak
Te intens
Aan de
hoeders van het rijk van de honger:
We zitten
gevangen
In het verleden;
In gebaren
Die op het laatst
Niets beteken
En we sterven
Iedere
dag
Ondanks
het brood van staal
Dat in
onze mond is gestopt
En nog
steeds doodringen de kogels
De
hardheid van ons levens
Terwijl vurige
liefde
Verbrandt tot as
End de haard van
liefde
Zich lijdzaam
voedt met ons lichaam
Tot nieuwe warmte
dagelijks vlammend
Ontkiemt in de
stad de angst
En heimwee naar
het platteland keert weer
Als de onschuld
van gestolen fruit
Hymnen
ruikend naar rook en teveel lijken
De
herinnering aan groei als mielies op het erf
Of de eerste
liefde die terugkomt:
Die je in het
hart raakt
Als goede muziek
Maar liefde is
pijn
Zo leerden we te
vroeg
Naarmate we ouder
werden
Toen zij die mij
beminden
En lachten om
mijn leed
Terugkeerden en
mij weer moesten missen
Naarmate ik
wegdreef
Als een volk
binnen bereik
Een
bekende geur op een vreemde plek
Of de
levens die ons voorbijgaan
In de
nacht
Maar wij
zullen ons hoofd niet bedekken met as
Te dikwijls
hebben wij leem geworpen
Over de verse
lichamen van vrienden en vreemden
Te dikwijls
hebben wij gelachen met angst
Te dikwijls onze
harten weggeslikt
Weg van waar ze
horen
Maar dwars door
alles heen
Een
Zwarte Kerst vol feestvreugde
De
stoffige stormen van Augustus
Door de
koude mist van een werkdag
Of de
rokerige smog die ons thuis begroet
We hebben
nog iets leren verdragen
Verzet
temidden van slavernij
Trots op
de erfenis van onszelf
Zoals de grote
drum,
Uit bloed
geslagen leer,
Spreekt tot de
nacht
Dutch translation by kind permission of © Irene
Scheltes
[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]
the NOVEL Sadness In The
House Of Love by Farouk Asvat
is now available on amazon: in paperback @ $15 & kindle @ only $5
[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]
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#a celebration of flames #too #many #times #we #die
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