Arkiv för mars 2013

Derek Walcott – Tiepolo’s Hound   Leave a comment

Derek Walcott reads from his book Tiepolo’s Hound at Museum of Contemporary Art San Diego.

Derek Walcott

Postat mars 26, 2013 av estraden i poets from English-speaking regions

Dylan Thomas – Fern Hill   Leave a comment

Dylan Thomas reads his poem Fern Hill

Fern Hill
Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
The night above the dingle starry,
Time let me hail and climb
Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns
And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves
Trail with daisies and barley
Down the rivers of the windfall light.

And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns
About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,
In the sun that is young once only,
Time let me play and be
Golden in the mercy of his means,
And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves
Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,
And the sabbath rang slowly
In the pebbles of the holy streams.

All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay
Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air
And playing, lovely and watery
And fire green as grass.
And nightly under the simple stars
As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,
All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars
Flying with the ricks, and the horses
Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white
With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all
Shining, it was Adam and maiden,
The sky gathered again
And the sun grew round that very day.
So it must have been after the birth of the simple light
In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm
Out of the whinnying green stable
On to the fields of praise.

And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house
Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
In the sun born over and over,
I ran my heedless ways,
My wishes raced through the house high hay
And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows
In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs
Before the children green and golden
Follow him out of grace.

Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me
Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,
In the moon that is always rising,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him fly with the high fields
And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.


Postat mars 25, 2013 av estraden i poets from English-speaking regions

Maia – First There Was Stone   Leave a comment

Maia from Ventura County Writers Club and 2012 Poetry Contest Winner reads her poem First There Was Stone

First There Was Stone

What if I told you my religion
was a stone in the sky

following me
from the first rock that spoke
in childhood, cloister heavy, the moon

mute over my shoulder
leading me to wander, so that now
closer to the end

I don’t really know
if this was stone’s kindness
or trickery.

Look out for a stone
that takes you in ambush
where the roads cross

there’ll be no going back
to kicking pebbles out of your way
without apology, without

curiosity’s lick
and danger, you’ll taste—
ready or not—

stone weighing like a world
against your side,

in the crook of your will—
the repose of granite
quenching its dryness

in the damp of your breath
with the cool slide
of a snake whispering

sister, sister


Postat mars 21, 2013 av estraden i poets from English-speaking regions

Derek Walcott – Sea Grapes   Leave a comment

Derek Walcott reads his poem Sea Grapes

Sea Grapes

That sail which leans on light,
tired of islands,
a schooner beating up the Caribbean

for home, could be Odysseus,
home-bound on the Aegean;
that father and husband’s

longing, under gnarled sour grapes, is
like the adulterer hearing Nausicaa’s name
in every gull’s outcry.

This brings nobody peace. The ancient war
between obsession and responsibility
will never finish and has been the same

for the sea-wanderer or the one on shore
now wriggling on his sandals to walk home,
since Troy sighed its last flame,

and the blind giant’s boulder heaved the trough
from whose groundswell the great hexameters come
to the conclusions of exhausted surf.

The classics can console. But not enough.

from Selected Poems by Derek Walcott. Copyright © 2007 by Derek Walcott.

Derek Walcott

En hyllning till Derek Walcott,
som läste sina dikter på Poeternas Estrad den 6 december 1992 – kvällen innan nobelprisutdelningen.

Postat mars 20, 2013 av estraden i poets from English-speaking regions

Per Blomqvist – Busslivet   Leave a comment

Per Blomqvist läser Busslivet ur diktsamlingen Livet på 60 grader


Postat mars 19, 2013 av estraden i svenska diktare

Wole Soyinka – Lost Poems   Leave a comment

Wole Soyinka reads his poem Lost Poems


Postat mars 19, 2013 av estraden i poets from English-speaking regions

Jon Jacobs – Mellan några höga hus   Leave a comment

Jon Jacobs läser Mellan några höga hus ur diktsamlingen Metropolis skugga


Postat mars 18, 2013 av estraden i svenska diktare