Sounds of Harbor goes German

On August 27 Zwanenzang/Swansong by Rose Vandewalle with my English translation will be presented in  literary Café Den Hopsack. Jean De Mey will take care of the music in his unique and wonderful way.

On August 28 however there will be a poetry event near the Ruhr estuary in Duisburg where Ruhr and Rhine mix their waters. The reading will start at 8 PM in 'ruhr art gallery' on the 'leinpfad'. I love that area with the boats, the wind over the water and the mix of people like one encounters in any harbor town...

A few people will read, organizer Fred Schywek, myself and hopefully also Annie Reniers will be able to make it. She then would read from 'Buitenholten' (Outer cavities) and Fred Schywek would read his excellent translation of this highly philosophical work by Annie. He will perform a critical reading of a poem by Thomas Kling, a young poet who died 10 years ago.

I'll be reading some of my own poems and poetry by Native American authors, for sure there will be read a few poems written by Sherman Alexie. The presentation of the bilingual book 'Over the backs of salmon/ Over ruggen van zalmen' will be on October 2nd,  2015, 8 PM in the Black Panter Gallery in Antwerp, Lucienne Stassaert will introduce the book and I'll comment on her translation from French by Andrée Chedid. So a lot of fun and beauty awaits us all in the next few months.

Praying for forbidden fruit by Bart Stouten

Bart forever kind and forever the professional organized a book presentation  unlike any other I have seen and especially heard. The Introduction by Luc Coorevits, was clear and to the point and he was right when he said it was a totally different approach to writing this real novel. In this picture Bart seems to be quietly relaxing, kind of knowing that everything would be fine. It was after all the master who was the master of ceremony. Publisher Friday (Vrijdag) brought another good book out. Once home I started reading and it is quite captivating. Working for Klara, the classical radio in Flanders Bart knows the field of music extremely well. He will find new young talent as Wout Goris and Wolfram Ghesquière, a truly intimate performance with Wofram's lyrics  brought to us in a fragile, husky voice by Wout. I preferred his English ballads over the Dutch ones although those  found a way to touch me.

 Here as a surprise for the evening Bart reading from the book and young Vlad Weverbergh on bas sax intoning, improvising along the reading. I had enjoyed Vlad's work a couple of times before, he seemed as playful yet even more mature as a musician. In other words. What a beautiful, rich evening.
Thanks to all  who made it happen.

A Sherman Alexie translation in Dutch has a presentation date

Sherman Alexie is a very special poet. He covers a wide range of forms. From his four first poetry books, all published by Bob Hershon's Hanging Loose Press, I made choice while reading them, translating one, then another one... When Face came out I was stunned... Fibonacci poems, poems with just one end rhyme ... I never found a solution for those technical problems. The choice out of the four first books however will be published in English and in Dutch by Leo Peeraer from Uitgeverij P. October 2nd will be the presentation in the "Black Panter Gallery" in Antwerp at the same time as the presentation of Lucienne Stasssaerts translation of André Chedid. We will interview and introduce each other.

The sky of imagination: sixty letters about art

Last night in the gorgeous Bourla theater in Antwerp there was a book presentation with the Dutch title De hemel van de verbeelding, Zestig brieven over kunst. My daughter Maya is one of the sixty writers. Since we have an Flemish, National and European election next Sunday, at the occasion of the book presentation five specialists and politicians for every party had been invited for a lively discussion. I wasn't too enchanted by the moderator in guiding the conversation.

I have been reading the book and am impressed by the knowledge, the depth of feeling, the wisdom, the humanity of certain letters. from very personal to writing about the structure of the cultural field, the role of administration for certain artists or facilitators of art. The two speakers who impressed me most were Bleri Lleshi pleading for more cultural openness and world music and Peter Swinnen the "bouwmeester" responsible for planning of the Belgium visual of cities. The politicians, well were politicians, yet some were smarter than others in defending culture. I am glad my daughter gave me the opportunity to be present at the event.

Johan de Boose interviews Lucienne Stassaert

 This post is a little late, almost a week after the facts. As an interviewer of writers Johan de Boose is just great. He researches thoroughly and digs up interesting information. I remember it happened when he interviewed Marleen De Crée and now again with the interview with Lucienne Stassaert. I have known both authors for a very long time and yet he managed to surprise me. He reads thoroughly, and asks sometimes difficult questions. Of course the bio is dealt with: Lucienne started out as a musician, even participated in the Queen Elizabeth Competition. Yet it was her fathers dream, not her dream. She gave concerts till in the late sixties and then gave her piano to her daughter who is a singer accompanying herself on the piano. Lucienne now paints and writes prose, wrote radio plays, she translates and writes mainly poetry. 

As Dickinson would say:

I dwell in Possibility -                                                                                  
A fairer house than Prose -

Currently she is working on her memories...

In Lucienne a poem will usually come about because of a word she found, a word which opens the possibility of saying something new, or in a new way. Very often after the first poem a second poem will come and it might even turn into a cycle of poems, or even a whole book. She was part and parcel of several literary movements like Labris, yet she distanced herself from those, being too much of a rebel, of an individualist. With age comes more and more introspection and also loss. A poem in my translation from her last book: Nabloei 

I'll quarantine death
now the bleakness of a new season
robs the light of its overtones
when in the night a blackened child
closes off the crossroads where the past thrives.

So life, reckless as an endangered spring,
can shoot up in a wild bush
in all nerve knots
I give free passage to the word
raging in seas a self-lighting sea.

Words go their own way... Das Wort geht eigene Wege/Het wooord gaat eigen wegen

 Salon 12b invited a bunch af friends and people who love poetry for the presentation of a translation into German of a book by Annie Reniers: Het woord gaat eiegen wegen/Das Wort geht eigene Wege, published by world internet books. It is the first book in the wib classic series. The original Dutch book was published in 1981. Both poet translator read the section 'Japanese suite', having both been to Japan in the past, Fred Schywek knew what she meant in writing this section. Annie Reniers is a philosopher, and was professor in Esthetics at the Brussels University( VUB) and a well known poet.

As you can see all listened attentively. The reading in some solemn cadences and thoughtful phrazing was highly appreciated also by people who were not used to listen to rather abstract poetry.

 Some who could judge the quality of the German translation, praised it highly. Of course a salon  implies that at the end there is an open mike: Frank De Vos read, Fred Schywek, German author, read some of his own poetry, Silent Bear, Anne C. read a moving letter to Annie and also two poems in German remembering Reiner Kunze's eightieths birthday. Even I read a few poems...

There was cake and apple pie, deviled eggs and chicken and of course wine and cava and non alcoholic drinks...
Every body seemed to go home happy.

Eating cherries around midnight - Bart Stouten

The book presentation was last week, yet I was so impressed I couldn't quite write it all down. It is like receiving a beautiful parcel and not daring to open it for fear the charm would disappear. But now it still holds. The title is wonderful. So was the presentation. It is a book with memories of how music came to be important in Bart's life. Yet also the sadder memories like the loss of his parents and twin sister were honestly spoken about. One could feel the lingering pain and uneasiness. One could feel the honesty. Interviewer, Anna Luyten and interviewee both bared part of their souls, without making the audience feel they are voyeurs, even when speaking about love and loss. Although knowing Bart for a while, I learned more about him. The book are memories beginning with his first piano lesson, when he fell in love with which instrument, the place of music in general in his life. He also is a longtime Zen practitioner. Of course the radio voice from Klara, Flemish classical music radio channel, provided some excellent music: Bach played on the accordion by Bart Wils was wonderfully moving. Now I am looking for a chunk of free time to relax and eat the cherries. Of course, the Permeke auditorium was well filled with all kind of interesting and interested people. A zen like experience, closed with a glass of wine and the chatter of friendly voices.

Sequenza: afterthoughts

With a book title like Sequenza it was to be expected that the presentation would equal a musical orgy for the crowd of lovers of Marleen de Crée's poetry. Of course we had the symbolic empty chair for Liu Xiaobo, Nobel laureate for Literature still in a Chinese jail. Such a symbolic gesture is something we try to do for different writers when they are in prison for using their freedom of expression. The surprise for me was Vlad Weverbergh in the moving, masterly way he performed Sequenza IXa by Berio. Not easy music, but listening made easy by the clarinetist. Marleen and I read her formidable poetry: she in Dutch and I in English. Frank De Vos, our den Hopsack troubadour, offered a moving new song: Waving at 12b, conceived in the room his mother was slowly leaving this world in. The friends and fans of Marleen were a great audience, listened very attentively and afterwards even spoke about the differences between languages, loyalty to the original, rhythms... And then the party started and a good time was had by all. Yesterday the first poem of the book, today the last in both languages:

over de bruggen schuift
de schaduw voor ons uit.
wij kunnen hem niet horen.
hij snijdt tot op het been.
we slaan de armen om het kind.
het hinkelt in de sterren
als waren wij nog niet geboren.
we leggen onze stemmen neer
voor het licht de ogen sluit.
onder de bruggen stroomt het lied,
slingert het in zachte plooien,
zingt, huivert en fluistert weer
in schaduwen die ons niet
toebehoren. daar zijn we samen
daar gingen we heen.
* 

over  the bridges glides

the shadow before us.

we cannot hear it.

it cuts to the bone.

we put our arms around the child.

it plays hopscotch in the stars

as if we hadn’t been born yet.

we lay down our voices

before the light closes the eyes.

under bridges flows the song,

meanders in soft folds,

sings, shivers and whispers again

in shadows which don’t belong

to us. there we are together

that is where we were going.

Before the book presentation of Sequenza tonight

In the days, even weeks, leading up to a book presentation I feel restless, insecure, full of joyful anticipation, a bit crushed, really prepared and at the same time unprepared... In short a whole bag of mixed emotions. It must be a bit the way chimps in research labs feel. The good news is that a group of chimps has been relocated to "Chimp Haven" seeing the sky for the first, seeing the others chimps without bars and being able to touch each other. Soon they exhibit the natural behavior patterns of chimps living in the wild... If you like poetry and music come by in den Hopsack tonight. And I promise, no monkey business just warm and interesting times.
Here the first poem of Sequenza
If you want to hear the Dutch read by Marleen de Crée you'll have to be there tonight.

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I tell you, Plinius, it is September

poets turn in the tide.

fruit ripens on warm walls,

don’t forget: these are the last hours

of summer. warmth, nothing can happen still.

it are the quiet days of the year,

because more patiently all is carried

in multiples of the last gestation.

September knows what fondness means

and love draws shadows of wax.

I say: once prudence was calculated  

by the outline of a water glass.

the grapes, Plinius, the last trestles

of what a poet’s summer was.