Gert Strydom, 9 maja 2012
He is just a child, a guitar player
and he hits the strings of his brown guitar quickly
in a lonely kind of song,
as if he is going into the world with it.
He plays for whoever is passing, for the night
where the birds and crickets are suddenly silent
when he picks at strings with a deep sweet kind of hurt
and his hurting music cuts through all things.
Sometimes he feels the cold, the winter wind
that wants to bring him back to reality
and he is being devoured by life
where the stars shine high above him
and he searches through pockets for a marijuana cigarette,
as the last pleasure that is left to him.
[Reference: Die speelman (The playing-man) by N.P. van Wyk Louw.]
Gert Strydom, 9 maja 2012
(after N. P. van Wyk Louw)
Its dark night when something stirs
with eyes gleaming yellow cruel,
outside the open glass window I see him,
sneaking as if he can climb in.
Weird a change has occurred,
changing him suddenly from man to animal,
giving him a type of mercilessness
to plunder, to cold bloodedly kill,
continuously he lives in the glare of vengeance.
[Reference: “Die swart luiperd” (The black leopard) by N. P. van Wyk Louw.]
Gert Strydom, 9 maja 2012
(after C.M. van den Heever)
His grey-headed mom pushes the wheelchair in the street,
with his big water-head that bounces to and fro,
an incoherent smile is on his face
but then suddenly he stares in front of him,
when his soft hand reaches out,
confusion and spit comes over his lips,
people are almost fleeing, are avoiding him,
while others stare astounded at him
and all of life is passing him.
[Reference: “Die ewige kind” (The eternal child) by C.M. van den Heever.]
Gert Strydom, 8 maja 2012
The bright stars sing a song of joy,
they are telling the world when you are coming to me
en continually one of them are jumping,
flowering blue-white in the heaven.
Continually the wind mentions your beautiful name,
softly it whispers our secrets to branches,
it witnesses our being together while it blows
and its pitch dark night
when your teeth glitter while you laugh in joy.
Gert Strydom, 8 maja 2012
It does not matter anymore
that the gazes of other men follow you,
that at times they look into your eyes as if caught,
that traffic cops sometimes want to follow your car.
You are lovely with something past mere beauty
and everybody can immediately see it,
there is no other more beautiful woman to me;
our being together is far more than just a maybe,
your love is something that I do not deserve.
Gert Strydom, 8 maja 2012
(after Ina Rousseau)
Time and again she stood on the street corner,
looking at every passing man
to share bodily pleasure with her,
throwing her beautiful gaze reckless,
inviting each man indecently
until the soullessness caught up with her one night
and without even realizing
she played herself out bit by tiny bit
and was wondering about serving God again,
about really loving someone
and she dreamt about a child just like her
but when she expected the very worst
she found a man that truly loved her,
with his gaze going to the depths of her heart.
[Reference: Cocotte by Ina Rousseau.]
Gert Strydom, 8 maja 2012
The whispering trees draw him
and much deeper he goes into them
until a while later he is lost
and walks up and down as if in a spider’s web.
“Is anybody here! Is anybody here,” he calls
and he listens for an answer.
“Here” echoes loudly back to him
while he feels lost and unhappy
and shouts at the top of his voice “come”
while lingering he turns round and around
and he hears “come, come” echoing loudly
he sees a pond, Echo with her palm
stretched out to him, wants to declare her love
but he is caught in the image of himself.
Gert Strydom, 8 maja 2012
Day after day I yearn, look at him,
watch where he lies naked against me,
I see the sun rising red in the east,
I yearn that in passion again he will take me.
I want to stop all the sadness in his eyes,
I want to bind him for a while to me,
I want to stop him from going into further danger,
I want to blind him with kindness and love
but when he walks restless up and down,
staring out far over the ocean for moments long,
then I want to keep him but all of my hope fades
while I know that he cannot stay any longer
and still I wish for him to be with me,
while I look far away, far past his gaze.
Gert Strydom, 2 maja 2012
As if constantly caught in a prayer
sprung from the very painful tears of Eve
white petals reach holy into the air
as if in purity it does believe
that it can bring a kind of loveliness,
a type of radiant flowering light,
as it flowers in a kind of eagerness
with a soft fragrance filling the night,
as if being a saintly vessel, it might.
Gert Strydom, 2 maja 2012
In the garden irises are flowering
in colours of yellow, purple and blue
as if something to them are happening
some are mixed in yellow and purple too
and some are mauve, or some are somewhat brown,
I wonder if other flowers I will see
where magnificent they grow on their own,
while the weavers are singing constantly
in a kind of solemn serenity.
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