Antoine Cassar

maltesisch

Antoine Cassar

englisch

Bejn

Bejn Aachen u Zyryanka,
bejn Samarinda u Samarkanda,
tiela’ u nieżel mal-pruwa
fil-fliegu vjola
ta’ bejn Kérkyra u Saranda,
fit-trejn ta’ bejn Vladivostok u Moska
li jaqsam seba’ darbiet iż-żerniq,
ferrieq, għal għonq it-triq,
minn ħemda hienja kif tinżel il-gawwija
fir-ragħwa t'Antofagasta
għal dagħwa multilingwi
kif naħbat mat-tappiera s-sieq,
bejn Baden Baden u l-Baħrejn,
bejn Fort-de-France u Port of Spain,
għaddej bil-mija u tletin
fit-tlett elef mil
ta’ bejn Portland, Oregon u Portland, Maine,
mill-iskieken ta’ kesħa Skoċċiża jniffdu l-ħaddejn
għax-xufftejn jitnixxfu fl-eħtriq
ta’ Marseille,
mewweġ mewweġ
bejn Zuwarah u Lampedusa
fuq dgħajsa tixxaqqaq fi tnejn,
bl-ilħna magħfusa,
bil-ħanġriet marsusa
ifittxu tal-lejl il-widnejn.

Bejn Ceylon u Sri Lanka,
bejn Kalaallit Nunaat u Groenlandja,
bejn kia ora f’għodwa t'Aotearoa
u g’day bl-aċċent imkarkar
ta’ Nova Żelanda,
lampa stampa
fid-dwana tar-Rwanda
b’identità titbandal
bejn l-offerta u d-domanda,
bejn déjà vu ġo pjazza li qatt ma smajt biha
miksija bil-ward tal-jacaranda
u mitluf fit-toroq ta’ belt imdawla
li m’ilix li dort,
xi ħaġa aktar dinjija
min-nostalġija
għal gżira li qatt ma żort
tirkibni rqiq qalb il-ħamba
tal-ajruport,
fis-sala tal-istennija
bil-moħbi ta’ missierha
tifla żgħira tpinġilu pajjiżi ġodda
fil-paġni vojta
tal-passaport,
imħarbat, bil-marbat,
bi stonku jkarwat,
mill-kefir li dardarni fit-tidlik ta’ Madrid
għall-idejn ratba tar-raħlija Sorbjana
li ġabitni f’tiegħi bi skutella soljanka,
bejn tronk u wati, bejn fietel u bati,
b'dejn ma' mgħoddi li ma jridx jgħaddi
bejn ġimgħa tidħol f'ġimgħa u nhar t'Erbgħa farradi,
stordut u mtarrax fid-diskors marradi
ta’ bejn ġixt Għewiedex u żewġt Imlati,
bejn iċ-ċentru u l-irkejjen,
bejn wiċċ u rġejjen,
bis-saħta tad-dubji tiegħi
għal dejjem ta’ dejjem,
mimdud fuq il-weraq tal-ħaxix ifuħ
bid-dija tirrifletti fuq il-ktieb miftuħ
nitwessa’ bil-pjaċir sa nitħaxken mill-kjass
ta’ bejn dj tal-qamel u żewġ namrati,
mid-drill idamdam fit-torrijiet ta’ Singapur
għat-tektik tat-tiġieġ fuq il-fdewwex
tal-kampung,
bejn logogramma tgħajjat fiċ-China Daily
u sentenza tisserrep bla ħniena
fil-Mallorca Zeitung,
inqalleb fid-dizzjunarju tal-but
ħa niddeċifra l-aħbar:
ajruplan jixxerraħ
żugraga tnewwaħ
f’burraxka bejn il-Brażil u s-Senegal,
magħsur fil-garġi gravitazzjonali
xita ta’ ruttam u ta’ iġsma inġazzati
għal fuq il-baħar kristall
tal-ekwatur.

Intraduċibbli nqum
mirjieħ u msaħħab,
bejn mappa mxappa bil-linka u lsien imqaħħab,
id-demm jitliegħeb għall-ftuħ, il-fwied imtaqqab,
bejn xagħra u sufa, bejn in-nasba u l-guva,
mix-xemx tiltaqa’ miegħi ma’ tarf is-sodda
għall-wiċċ bajdani ta’ mħabbti
b'idejha fuq ġufha,
bejn ‘l hawn u ‘l hemm u ‘l hinn u lura
bejn sormi mikxuf u ruħi mistura
bejn ġej u sejjer u viċiversa
bejn dritt għall-punt u tidwira mal-lewża
bejn minnu u mhux,
bejn l-anġli u l-uħux,
bejn m’għadux u għad m’hux u bil-maqlub
bil-waħx ta’ nfiħ ir-riħ minn bejn l-arbli
nipprova nagħraf kif se naħtaf dak il-ħoss li ħarabli
għandi friegħi taħt l-art u għeruq jilħqu s-sħab
rimja fuq rimja għal ġol-fwar u ġot-trab
għandi xenxul li baqa’ nieżel sal-antipodi tad-dinja
għandi antenna li telgħet sal-muntanji qamrija
bejn it-tluq u l-wasla, bejn il-wasla u t-tluq,
bit-twieqi kollha mberrħa, bis-sema kollu għeluq,
bi frustier iħarisli fil-mera
dix-xibka ta’ wiċċi mixquq
mill-aħmar tat-tapit mifrux ma’ twelidna
għall-kefen abjad silġ li jgħattina mad-difna
bejn fra u tra, de-ci, de-là,
ανάμεσα , 之间 , между , zwischen
the perpetual indecision
of a clear preposition

bejn ma ninsabx ġo posti u posti ġo fija
bejn f’sikkti mill-ġdid u mitluf minn sensija
miexi b’pass meqjus
minn fruntiera għal fruntiera,
minn meridjan għal meridjan
tad-dinja priġuniera,
bejn imnejn u lejn,
bejn lejn u safejn,
fiċ-ċentru ta’ kollox
u ma' xifer ix-xejn,
fir-riġlejn il-ħeġġa, l-uġigħ fil-ġenbejn,
indur, naqsam it-triq
u nibqa' għaddej,
nittanta nifhem
l-għalfejn
tal-fejn.

© Antoine Cassar
Audioproduktion: Literaturwerkstatt Berlin 2009

Between

Between Aachen and Zyryanka,
between Samarinda and Samarkanda,
up and down on the prow
on the violet strait
between Kérkyra and Saranda,
on the train between Vladivostok and Moscow
which seven times crosses the dawn,
cutting through, journeying forth,
from a blissful silence as the seagull dives
into the foam of Antofagasta
to a multilingual expletive
as my foot charges into the manhole,
between Baden Baden and Bahrain,
between Fort-de-France and Port of Spain,
cruising at a hundred and thirty
along the three thousand miles
between Portland, Oregon and Portland, Maine,
from the skewers of a Scottish chill stabbing at the cheeks
to the lips drying out in the sand-bearing wind
of Marseille,
sailing on, sailing on
between Zuwarah and Lampedusa
on a boat splitting into two,
with pressing voices,
with smothered throats
searching for the ears of the night.

Between Ceylon and Sri Lanka,
between Kalaallit Nunaat and Greenland,
between a kia ora on an Aotearoa morning
and a g’day in the dragging accent
of New Zealand,
trapped and broke
at the Rwandan customs
with an identity swinging
between offer and demand,
between a déjà vu in a square I’ve never heard of
carpeted in jacaranda petals
and lost in the streets of an illuminated city
I roamed not long ago,
something more worldly
than nostalgia
for an island I’ve never visited
subtly invades me in the hubbub
of the airport,
waiting at the gate
away from her father’s gaze,
a little girl draws new countries
in the empty pages
of his passport,
disarranged, berthed down,
with a thundering stomach,
from the kefir that upset me in the sweat of Madrid
to the soft hands of the Sorbian village girl
who brought me back on my feet with a bowl of soljanka,
between grave and acute, between lukewarm and tepid,
indebted to a past that will not go by
between a week straddling a week and an odd Wednesday,
dazed and deafened in the distressing discourse
between two Gozos and two Maltas,
between the centre and the corners,
between heads and tails,
with the curse of my doubts
for ever and ever,
sprawled out on the fragrant leaves of grass
with the sunlight reflecting on the open book
I swell with pleasure until besieged by the racket
between a lousy dj and a pair of sweethearts,
from the reverberating drill in the towers of Singapore
to the pecking of the chickens on the corrugated roofs
of the kampung,
between a screaming logogram in the China Daily
and a mercilessly snaking sentence
in the Mallorca Zeitung,
I leaf through the pocket dictionary
to decipher the news:
a shredding aeroplane
a shrieking spinning-top
in a storm between Brazil and Senegal,
squashed in the gravitational gullet
rain of scrap and of frozen bodies
onto the crystal sea
of the equator.

Untranslatable I awake
windy and cloudy,
between an ink-soaked map and a prostituted tongue,
the blood sweltering for the open, the liver riddled with holes,
between a hair and a bristle, between the trap and the birdhouse,
from the sun meeting me at the foot of the bed
to the pale white face of my love
with her hands on her womb,
between here and there and beyond and back
between my arse uncovered and my soul concealed
between coming and going and vice versa
between straight to the point and about the bush
between true and not,
between the angels and the ghouls,
between no longer and not yet and the other way round
with the terror of the wind amid the flagstaffs
trying to see how I can snatch that sound that escaped me
I have branches underground and roots that reach the clouds
sprout upon sprout into the vapour and the dust
I have a shoot that descended to the antipodes of the world
I have an antenna that climbed to the mountains of the moon
between departure and arrival, between arrival and departure,
with all windows wide open, with the sky overcast,
with a stranger at the mirror examining
the netting of my cracked face
from the red of the carpet rolled out at our birth
to the ice-white shroud that covers us at the burial
between fra and tra, de-ci, de-là,
ανάμεσα , 之间 , между , zwischen
the perpetual indecision
of a clear preposition

between not in my place and my place within me
between back to my senses and out of my mind
walking with sure feet
from border to border,
from meridian to meridian
of the prisoner world,
between from and towards,
between towards and to,
at the centre of all
and at the edge of nothing,
the legs full of verve, pain in the sides,
I turn, cross the road
and continue on my way,
trying to comprehend
the why
of where.

Translated from the Maltese by Antoine Cassar.