10.08.2009 Wu-Chu Kung-Fu Poem by Margaret Alice

Brought work documents home, letters by
disgruntled dissidents, a Wu-chu Kung
Fu expert offering a show for the 2010
World Cup opening ceremony

Translated lines without rhythm or rhyme,
stopped when we went to the shops, side-
tracked into admiring a beautiful flowering
garden at a roadside nursery

Dreaming about Deepak Chopra’s depiction
of the afterlife where we get what we think
about; I visualise perfect love and complete
freedom without unmusical, discordant,

Toneless, grating noise; we sang Frère Jaques*
before we could talk, my father taped us, we
listened to the recording as we grew older,
a three-year old me singing

Hansie-Slim, berg wil klim, in die wye wêreld in*
before I learnt what the words meant; my brain
creates rhythmic patterns in musical delight,
causing me to produce

The most atrocious translations of the harsh words
other authors strung in cold lines without reference
to music and song; the ice-cold world of materialism
is where I belong - but

I am always listening to the music playing in my head
How Great Thou Art, Psallite Deo and Ay Marieke,
Marieke by Jacques Brel...

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* Frère Jacques = Vader Jakob, slaap jy nog,
hoor hoe lui die kerkklok, ding-dong-del
[Frère Jacques, dormez-vous, sonnez les
matines, din-din-don]

FAK:
[*Hans ran off, mountaineering, hat and stick,
brave indeed; mother sighs, Hans is gone, run
back home anon ]

*Hansie-Slim, berg wil klim, in die wye wêreld in,
stok en hoed, pas hom goed, hy is vol van moed,
Maar die moerderhart is seer, Hans is in die huis
nie meer, hoor nou net, moeder sug, hardloop
gou-gou terug.