Swansong by Rose Vandewalle

Here you see the wonderful book, by Rose Vandewalle. The poetry in it spans three decades: 1982-2012. dodopres, Roses publisher since a real long time was kind enough to publish this bi-lingual poetry book. Rose is a longtime friend, loved by all and appreciated by even more people. She has a loyal group of readers and is respected by many poets.

It is always a challenge to publish a translation. When Bert Jans from dodopres first saw the book with her Dutch lyrics next to my translation he wondered whether an English version could add anything at all... Yet after reading the book through he wrote us that indeed there was this extra value of having a double reading. Knowing Rose real well and having worked together with her often, I knew she would pick up any mistake, or inelegant solution. The book is warm, a heartfelt image of family life, of the city of Antwerp, pain when her mother got Alzheimer, helping me when my mother dementia... And still the strength, the optimism, the honoring of friends, warmth in a loving relationship, life in all its aspect that is what you'll read in this book. 300 books as the first edition is a nice start. Thank you dodo-pers for a job well done, and Rose thank you... The presentation of this book will be July 27, in Den Hopsack, in Antwerp...

Al die zo mooie mondaine vrouwen

als ze elkaar ontmoeten

komt er een explosie

van hello en ça va en salut

adders van ah’ s en oh’ s

en ondertussen hebben ze mekaar

bekeken en betast

met hun vele diamanten vingers

dat spiegelpaleis gooi ik aan diggelen

en bevrijd mijn kraaienpoten-ik

*

All those so pretty worldly women

when they meet each other

follows an explosion                

of hello and ça va and see you

vipers of ahs and ohs

and in the mean time they have

scrutinized and fingered each other

with their multi diamond digits

that mirror palace I smash to smithereens

and liberate my crowfeet-me

* * *

Onvoorspelbaar

zijn vrouwen

als wolken

vliedend en vluchtig

zwaluwen doorkruisen

aldoor hun geest

ze buitelen en gieren

bereiken nooit grond

verhuld en versluierd

zijn vrouwen

verteerd door het vuur

niet te vatten

als water

glijdend door handen

*

Unpredictable

are women

cloudlike

fleeing and fleeting        

swallows constantly

cross their minds

they tumble and shriek         

never come down to earth         

disguised and veiled

are women

consumed by fire

beyond grasp

like water

gliding through hands