in the pocket · 3 perfume tea only asks hot water and an open mind. heya is a dancer. in joy and...
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PERFUME Geert Verbeke
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PERFUME
GEERT VERBEKE
EMPTY SKY
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PERFUME Tanka (English-Nederlands) & lay-out © Geert Verbeke. D/2016/Geert Verbeke, editor. © Any part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, upon obtaining written consent of the authors. e-mail: [email protected] Dedicated to: Jenny Ovaere, the kids and our friends.
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PERFUME Tea only asks hot water and an open mind. Heya is a dancer. In joy and sadness, flowers and incense are his friends. Heya has meditated with the lotus and the roses. Silence in his heart speaks the language of flowers. He knows wind, water and perfume.
mountains are enlightened Buddhas
says a monk as renowned Zen master he bows for the flowers
Thee vraagt enkel heet water en een open geest. Heya is een danser. In vreugde en verdriet zijn bloemen en wierook vrienden. Heya mediteerde met de lotus en de rozen. Stilte in zijn hart spreekt de taal van de bloemen. Hij kent wind, water en parfum.
bergen zijn verlichte Boeddha’s
zegt een monnik als vermaarde Zenmeester buigt hij voor de bloemen
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Heya the abbot
of an old monastery sings about peace
he is an expert archer without a bow on his back
Heya de abt van een oud klooster
zingt over vrede hij is een ervaren schutter zonder een boog op de rug
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a frog croaks
in the summery brook gazing the stars
your charcoal drawing on a sheet of rice paper
een kikker kwaakt in de zomerse beek starend naar sterren jouw houtskoolschets op een vel rijstpapier
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show me the wind
and the warm colors for inner peace
let me behold love in the lotus of my heart
toon mij de wind en de warme kleuren voor
innerlijke vrede laat mij liefde behouden in de lotus van mijn hart
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sitting silently as tiny butterfly on a signboard
if you are nothing at all then you are everything
stilzwijgend zitten als nietige vlinder
op een verkeersbord als je helemaal niets bent
dan ben je alles
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see the reed stems
their sound is blowing away with the scent of herbs
under the wooden bridge a gently sighing breeze
zie de rietstengels hun klank waait weg
met de geur van kruiden onder de houten brug
een zacht zuchtende bries
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Pancho the poet
is praying for peace on Eastern Island
his A-bomb memorial day with a haiku meeting
Pancho de dichter
bidt voor vrede op het Paaseiland
zijn A-bom herdenkingsdag met een haikubijeenkomst
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he plays joyfully
on his old shakuhachi a song for the sun
meditation in the middle of the fragrant forestland
hij speelt vreugdevol op zijn oude shakuhachi
een lied voor de zon meditatie in het midden van het geurige bosland
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Buddha the Zorba
is a dancer in his mind flowers blossom
paved with grey stones the garden of the city
Boeddha de Zorba is een danser in zijn geest
bloemen bloesemen geplaveid met grijze stenen
de tuin van de stad
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as a performer
he moves cautious in the sunny street
a few travelled stones on a red window-sill
als een acteur beweegt hij op zijn hoede
in de zonnige straat witte zwerfstenen glanzen op een rode vensterbank
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on the pavement
the click clack of footsteps a sultry summer
visiting the tea master with two begging monks
op het plaveisel de klikklak van voetstappen
een zwoele zomer de theemeester bezoeken met twee bedelmonniken
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admiring the light
so early in the morning rose-coloured
together in the kendo with blossoms on the wind
licht bewonderen zo vroeg in de ochtend
roze gekleurd samen in de kendo
met bloesems in de wind
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her countdown rhyme eeny meeny miny moe
with shouts of joy on her cotton sweater I love my Chevrolet
haar aftelrijmpje iene miene mutte
met vreugdekreten op haar katoenen T-shirt ik hou van mijn Chevrolet
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his new recording
basically influenced by Russian poets
his bass is a narrator about the milkman
zijn nieuwe opname voornamelijk beïnvloed door Russische dichters zijn bas is een verteller
over de melkboer
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in the tea garden
waiting together for a blue hummingbird
the Tao has no gate nor piles of handbooks
in de theetuin samen wachten op een
blauwe kolibrie de Tao heeft geen poort
noch stapels handboeken
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tell legends
about colored dragons above the hills
they express the sadness of sword masters
vertel legenden over gekleurde draken
boven de heuvels ze drukken de droefheid uit
van zwaardmeesters
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a lonely tree
is still growing silently doing nothing at all a cuckoo is singing
songs to be remembered
een eenzame boom is nog steeds stil groeiend
hij doet verder niets een koekoek zingt
liedjes om te herinneren
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a sharp sputtering
no longer a scholar boy he has a strong will several times a day
his pebble hits a bamboo
een scherp gesputter niet langer een schoolkind
heeft hij een sterke wil enkele malen per dag
raakt zijn kei een bamboo
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dad told him often we are the Buddha no need to wander driving to the river
listen to the murmuring
pa zij hem vaak wij zijn de Boeddha
geen nood aan wandelen rijdend naar de rivier
luister naar het gemurmel
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an old prayer wheel
is softly turning around calling the sparrows
with a penetrating squeak from the deepest depths
een oud gebedswiel draait zachtjes rond het roept de mussen
met indringend gepiep uit de diepste dieptes
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a rainy day
with birds behind the wall sounds are muted
the cuckoo of the forest is a terrific teacher
regenachtige dag met vogels achter de muur
klanken zijn gedempt de koekoek uit het bos
is een uitstekende leraar
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he talks with the wind
about spinning movement shifting and changing
the wind is always empty no words nor mind
hij praat met de wind over spinnend bewegen
draaiend en kerend is de wind altijd leeg
geen woorden noch geest
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GEERT VERBEKE Born in Kortrijk, Belgium 1948. Life partner of Jenny Ovaere. Haiku poet since 1968. Jazzcat.
Geboren in Kortrijk, België 1948. Echtgenoot van Jenny Ovaere. Haikudichter sinds 1968. Jazzliefhebber.
PERFUME
Smell the perfume, still remembering our nocturnal walks on the beach. The canvas on the wall is an oblique stroke between two acts: life and death. In my memory you will always smile. Your horse neighs.
Ruik het parfum, in herinnering onze nachtelijke wandelingen op het strand. Het canvas aan de muur is een schuine strook tussen twee bedrijven: leven en dood. In mijn herinnering zul jij altijd glimlachen. Jouw paard hinnikt.