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"
ANTENNA
In the nightly hours
the voices of the world run fast
over the roof
and into my room.
I hear
the hard metal
in the politicians’ words.
Antigone shouts:
Why can’t I
bury my brother?
Behind the curtain of jazz
I listen
to the breathing of the blacks.
Rifle barrels
are pointed at me,
I hear the blunt impact of their shots.
Big Ben
has rung ten o’clock.
In universal space
circulates
Vostok 6.
I am reposting Antenna, another poem by Hanns Cibulka, this one about radio, translated by myself from Portuguese to English, adding up to the still so few of his you can find online.
Portuguese:
Nas horas da noite
correm céleres as vozes do mundo
por sobre o telhado
e entram-me no quarto.
Oiço
o metal duro
nas palavras dos políticos.
Antígona grita:
Porque não posso
enterrar o irmão?
Atrás da cortina do jazz
escuto
o respirar dos negros.
Bocas de espingardas
são apontadas para mim,
oiço o impacto dos tiros.
O Big Ben
bateu as dez horas.
No espaço universal
circula
a Wostok VI.
in Poesia da R.D.A. Breve Antologia
selecção e tradução de Rainer Bettermann e Álvaro Pina
Livros Horizonte, Lda. - Lisboa Janeiro 1980
"
Kein Steinkoloß
blindlings
vom Gravitationsgesetz
getrieben,
unsere Erde
reicht weit hinaus
in den Raum,
umfangem vom Atem
der Sonne.
Die Erde
darf ich nich
verraten,
weil ich der Mutter
immer wieder bedarf,
um Mensch zu sein.
Willst du
in einem Hause wohnen,
wo die Mauern
fliegender Staub,
der Dachstuhl
aus Wind?
Alle Sonnen,
flammend,
zwischen Orion,
Andromeda
wiegen das Leben
nicht auf.
Mater Terra, Hanns Cibulka
No longer Earth day in my timezone, but who cares, this is cosmic.
A literal translation below:
No mere stone colossus propelled blindly by gravitational pull, our Earth ranges far out into space, encircled by the sun’s breath. I may not betray the Earth, for to be man I ever require the mother. Do you want to live in a house with walls of swirling dust, a roof of wind? All the suns flaming between Orion and Andromeda are insignificant compared to life.
(Source: www2.unca.edu)
Hanns Cibulka with his cat.
Not one post about Hanns Cibulka on tumblr
I can’t find anything of his on the internet either, I only know two poems from an old anthology and they got me hooked.
Do you know about Hanns Cibulka?
"
ANTENA
Nas horas da noite
correm céleres as vozes do mundo
por sobre o telhado
e entram-me no quarto.
Oiço
o metal duro
nas palavras dos políticos.
Antígona grita:
Porque não posso
enterrar o irmão?
Atrás da cortina do jazz
escuto
o respirar dos negros.
Bocas de espingardas
são apontadas para mim,
oiço o impacto dos tiros.
O Big Ben
bateu as dez horas.
No espaço universal
circula
a Wostok VI.
post #200:
Antena, um poema de Hanns Cibulka
(in Poesia da R.D.A. Breve Antologia; selecção e tradução de Rainer Bettermann e Álvaro Pina; Colecção Horizonte Poesia; Livros Horizonte, Lda. - Lisboa Janeiro 1980)
