American Sign Language and Poetry

 

© sms:foto duisburg/rhein 2012

Dori Vaughn works in a school as an interpreter/assistant for children who cannot hear. She even, in her lunch break, thought hearing children to sign, so that the deaf children would be less isolated. When I asked her whether she could sign some of my poems, she hesitated a moment and said yes. Signing is interpreting. American Sign Language (ASL) is not “English”. So she practiced while I spoke the text and she looked for the best rendering of the image or the concept. She also practice ‘off the page’. Working from a written text is a job not many interpreters like to do, and poetic language of course is an extra challenge. She also discussed the content of the poem, what I had meant, how it came about. I however wanted to know how she read the poems, because a poem once written, is read and interpreted by the reader and might carry a different weight or connotation. Dori does a great job and adds to the beauty of the event of April 30, 2012: desert poetry night.

!SING

Today in the Ruhr-area Cultural Capital of Europe 2010 there is a gigantic sing along in the Stadium of Schalke. This poem can be read with comments about the event. It was an uplifting,fee good evening.

Sing
Die Seele geht
der Leib der bleibt
Entrückung kommt
sing sing, du King
von Blut von
äth’risch’ Glut
du King du sing
der Wind der weht
der Schnee der geht
du sing du King
auf Horizonten
mit neuem Winter
Mantel bau dein
Schiff die Jungs
vom Leib der bleibt
die Seele baut
ein Schiff für
dich und deine Frau
und dein Fahr Rad
frag mal die Jungs
ob du den Sattel
brauchst zum tauchen
gerade jetzt wo
die Post Karte
singt du King
*
Fred Schywek

Sing

The soul goes
the body that stays
detachment comes
sing sing, you King
of blood of
ethereal glow
you King you sing
the wind blows
away the snows
you sing you King
on horizons
with new winter
coat build your
boat the guys
of the body that stays
the soul builds
a boat for
you and your wife
and your bicycle
do ask the boys
whether you need the
saddle to dive
just now when
the post card
sings you King

translated into English for the pleasure of your eyes.

Corporate identity

I was asked to document my last two weeks in which I still have a corporate identity. Well, they started out under unblemished skys and total disaster on the road to the temporary capital of Europe. Late arrivals, no arrivals, changing work scedules and for most, and early departure for some was the flavor of the week. Already last month, I had taken leave of most features along the road. I consciously had done all the usual things more mindful, as a goodbye. This week however turned hectic and that was just fine since because of this, it turned out to feel like just any other week. It was good to do the normal work and to end in beauty with a high-powered meeting. Yet there was melancholy. The changes, knowing that in a weeks time, the corporate identity will have been stripped off, the strange irregular structure of life will fade away and absences from home will become presences which may weigh on those used to have me out of their hair. New life plans will develop in living them day by day. The skies are streaked again. Normalty of meetings, packing unpacking still lingers. I wonder will there be cabin fever, or will literary activities take hold more firmly and fully. Will I be less hasty? Learn not to interrupt people, will I... Will we... Questions and doubts, how to work out the balance of distance and nearness. Had I been able to write every day, I might have commented on the joy of doing a good job till the last day, knowing one stops working when still going strong. I might have written on being critical and working hard at not becoming cynical in working in a highly political environment. I feel vulnerable and glad, even liberated for a few moments. Skipper ahoy, in a week I am sailing out with red tears and new fire... for shared futures and shared shores.

Colors at work

Did you know white containers contain perishables? White reflects the sun and keeps the containers cool. They do, so why don't we paint all the houses white in the desert?











Why do they make certain tools red, turquoise, blue, black and yellow...
I really don't know... Maybe it is part of the working conditions of the best dockers in the world so that they can keep a colorful outlook on life in view of the automatisation that decimates jobs. A few years ago there were still 140.000 dockers, today on this harbor only 70.000 found a hard but well paid job.

Wind in your hair

Once in a while i just need a bit of wind in my hair, airing out my brain, chasing the cobwebs.





What can be nicer then than check out other people's tools. Cranes, fixed , automatic or movable. Bridges that open and the amazingly beautiful technical works, like a big clock.








The mysteries of chemical industry have a strange appeal. The space, masses of water, the wide gray, rainy expanse, so near the town defines what a port is, a city on a stream and many docks.