John Irons
english
Skagen
Det er mig der har malet
billederne på Skagens museum.
Jeg sagde til mig selv
der har du dit liv og så
begyndte jeg at male.
Jeg tror det startede med frokostbilledet
jeg blev så sulten
følte mig så hjemme.
Jeg malede Krøyer og Drachmann
Tuxen, Ancher - både hun og ham
og alle andre
helt ned til Tørsleff.
Det var et mægtigt arbejde
men jeg havde det jo godt
så det var ikke noget.
Drachmann hjalp mig lidt
og Krøyer
vi talte meget
så
og drak en lille smule.
Vi så på Skagen
malede en masse billeder
fik lyset frem
men måske mest en livsform
vores egen
den jeg faldt for.
Jeg husker timerne
med Krøyers kone
under hyldetræerne hos Drachmanns,
bourgognen i de svære glas
og alting set
i sommerbilleder
melankolsk
som var det hele længst forbi.
Jeg husker aftnerne på Grenen
vandene der mødtes
og besværet med at få farven
til at makke ret
det var jo mig der skulle
male alting
ville male alting
før det ikke var der mere.
Der er en duft af død
idyl og linnedskuffer med lavendel
over mine Skagenslærreder,
men det var livligt nok
dengang
det var det.
Vi rejste os fra bordet
oven på den lange frokost
og stemmerne var blevet mere sagte.
Vi stod i skumringen
før hver gik hjem til sit
men det var svært at bryde op.
Så vendte Anna Ancher sig
og sagde:
Vi skal sove nu.
Hun tog sin mands arm,
gik med ham igennem lågen
og langsomt fulgte alle efter.
Skridtene forsvandt imellem
husene
værten slukkede sin lampe
det var for sent at male mere.
From: Rifbjergs digte. Udvalgt af Brostrøm
København: Gyldendal , 2001
Audio production: 2005, M.Mechner / Literaturwerkstatt Berlin
Skagen
I’m the one who’s painted
the pictures at the Skagen museum.
I said to myself
that is your life and then
I began to paint.
I think it all started with the lunch picture
I got so hungry
felt quite at home.
I painted Krøyer and Drachmann
Tuxen, Ancher – her and him
and all the others
right down to Tørsleff.
It was a colossal undertaking
but I was feeling fine
so that didn’t matter.
Drachmann helped me a bit
and Krøyer
we talked a lot
looked
and drank just a little.
We looked at Skagen
painted lots of pictures
brought out the light
but most perhaps a way of life
our own
the one I fell for.
I remember the hours
with Krøyer’s wife
beneath the elders at Drachmann’s,
the burgundy in those heavy glasses
and everything seen
in summer images
melancholy
as if it was all long over.
I remember the evenings at the Prong
the waters that met
and the trouble getting the colours
to toe the line
after all I was the one who was going
to paint everything
wanted to paint everything
before it was no longer there.
There was a scent of death
idyll and linen drawers with lavender
about my Skagen canvases,
but there was plenty of life
back then
there was that.
We got up from the table
after the long drawn-out lunch
and the voices had become more subdued.
We stood in the twilight
before going home our separate ways
but it was hard to take our leave.
Then Anna Ancher turned round
and said:
We’re going to sleep now.
She took her husband’s arm,
went with him through the gate
and slowly everyone followed suit.
The steps died away between
the houses
the host put out his lamp
it was too late to do any more painting.