Saturday, 22 September 2012

Poem by the Afrikaans writer
Wilma Stockenström


One day the creator held
his creation like a child a butterfly
in his hand, and quivering
the enamelled wings parted.
Wondrous the colours that glow as deities

glowed, open, shut, with great
display, the wings for day and night.
The creator still feels the small feet
delicately on his fingers and is astonished
at what he has been capable of: the unfolding

of an everything, gold-dust-covered light,
and as it is with creators, he
conceives, proud and humble, one more
one more such lovely, light-hearted butterfly,
repeatedly, for the sake of eternity.

To see the original poem, go to here.
There have been many revisions of this translation at the blogspot site - the latest, and perhaps most important, is that 'oopvou/van 'n al, goudstofoortrekte lig' would seem to contain two nouns, i.e. the word 'al' means a cosmos or universe and is not an adjective.

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