!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.

Farewel party

To do things right I need a ritual. So the friendship among colleagues had to celebrated now that I stopped working. There were the sweet and personal words by the chef, and my reply. My friends liked it, yet I can't remember what I said. People laughed, talked, had a good time, with none of the awkwardness of official do's.
I always considered myself an outsider, or at least looking in from the sideline, yet that evening I was carried by the warmth of those I shared my work life with and travels in the service of making communication easier. These friends shared some of my life-load. I now shared some of my joys with them. The house is full of flowers, books sought out after careful consideration, things they wanted me to know, thought I might like. Pleasant silly surprises and empty books to write in. I may have been looking in, but I was watched by those I worked with and they got my number. I was touched be the sincerity of their warmth.
By the way, someone counted: 17 languages were present, several of them spoken: German, English, French, Italian, Dutch, Danish, Greek, Spanish, Portuguese, Swedish, Russian, Finnish, Polish, Turkish, Estonian, Hungarian, Maltese and Scottish.
Thank you all for closure and the good start into other realms into which I might just lure you to follow...

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.

Salon 12b

Yes it happened Salon 12b: grand and in style: Enjoy the pictures and peruse the program:

Programm / Programma / Program / Programme
Pforten der Abendsonne / Poorten van de Avondzon / Doors of the Evening Sun / Portes du soleil couchant
A cooperation of Salon 12b with DOCKS Dichtkunst zur Zeit (contemporary poetry)
*
I
19.00 Peter Holvoet Hanssen
The new poet laureate of Antwerp 2010-11 presents selected poems
19.20 Job Degenaar presents his new book:
Handkussen van de tijd ( Handkisses of Time )
He also reads from the trilogie Flußschiffahrt/ Inland Shipping
Antiwar poetry and Chamber thoughts (Grenzland 3) .
*
II
Love in Holland and Flanders
20.00 Catharina Boer
20.20 Rose Vandewalle
Roger Nupie
20.40 Marleen De Smet
Lief Vleugels

*
III
ANTI
Fred Schywek
Ode to Brel: When one has nothing
Tribute to Pete Seeger: Where have all the flowers gone/
Wo sind all die Blumen hin
Embrace of a little cloud
Annmarie Sauer
Roger Nupie
Job Degenaar
Lucienne Stassaert
Patricia Van Nunen sings Jacques Brel Les VIEUX
*
Pause
*
LATE FOG
21.20
IV
Lucienne Stassaert, Poems from: In een adem/ In einem Atemzug (WIB 2010)
Patricia Van Nunen song
Hilde Pinnoo, Poems from Avondland/ Abendland (WIB 2010)
Patricia Van Nunen song
Lief Vleugels, two cycles of poetry

Master of Ceremony: Roger Nupie

Wars

If they ask, I am against war. It is a sad night when the amount of troops will be announced to go and finish a job that cannot be finished by violence. If you are called to go and kill don't go. If a command is given, don't obey. Think for yourself. Sometimes poetry helps you do that: Heal by Fred Schywek in English translation:

what did religion give me
thou shalt not kill
what philosophy
man is measure
what do I give
myself
all freedom

what did the bird take from me
do they finally sleep in winters
on dreams
of moon
and stars
on light
and in the circle
of your senses
the birds
in the winter
do the birds
sing by you on the branch

Blogging

It has been obvious to some of you there were no new blog posts. Not for lack of subjects or inspiration. On the contrary, so many actions, subjects, writers in prison came up it stopped the flow. The fight against drones, spearheaded by one of my friends, is just one of them and the war in Afghanistan is the biggest mistake yet by the new team in the White House. Yet since I believe art can change the world and since literature is a strong instrument and since translations bridge the differences in culture and can bring understanding the content of the future blogs my change a bit. The concept isn't definite yet but crystallizing slowly. The gentle wind wins says a German proverb. Art against killing (wars and the death penalty, domestic violence...)

A poem by Fred Schywek in English translation:

Jeez us

Thou shalt not kill
Thou
Thou
Thou
Thou
Thou
Thou
Thou
Thou
Thou

East and west

Two sunsets one sunrise...