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Thomas Hardy: “Ah, Are You Digging on My Grave?” vertaald door Cornelis W. Schoneveld

schoneveld-hardy02

Thomas Hardy

“Ah, Are You Digging on My Grave?”

 

“Ah, are you digging on my grave        

            My loved one? — planting rue?”         

– “No, yesterday he went to wed                    

One of the brightest wealth has bred.

‘It cannot hurt her now,’ he said,                    

            ‘That I should not be true.’”                

 

“Then who is digging on my grave?

            My nearest dearest kin?”

– “Ah, no; they sit and think, ‘What use!

What good will planting flowers produce?

No tendance of her mound can loose

            Her spirit from Death’s gin.’ “

 

“But some one digs upon my grave?

            My enemy?—prodding sly?”

– “Nay: when she heard you had passed the Gate

That shuts on all flesh soon or late,

She thought you no more worth her hate,

            And cares not where you lie.”

 

“Then, who is digging on my grave?

            Say—since I have not guessed!”

– “O it is I, my mistress dear,

Your little dog, who still lives near,

And much I hope my movements here

            Have not disturbed your rest?”

 

“Ah yes! You dig upon my grave . . .

            Why flashed it not on me

That one true heart was left behind!

What feeling do we ever find

To equal among human kind

            A dog’s fidelity!”         

 

“Mistress, I dug upon your grave

            To bury a bone, in case

I should be hungry near this spot

When passing on my daily trot.

I am sorry, but I quite forgot

            It was your resting-place.”

 

“O joh, graaf jij hier aan mijn graf”

 

“O joh, graaf jij hier aan mijn graf

Voor tijm-aanplant, mijn schat?”

– “Nee, gisteren is hij gehuwd

Met ‘n ster door weelde opgestuwd.

‘Haar pijn,’ zei hij, ‘is nu geluwd,

Al had ik schuld gehad.’ “

 

“Maar wie graaft hier dan aan mijn graf?

Mijn liefste broer of zus?”

– “O nee, zij denken maar, ‘Welk nut

Wordt hier uit bloemenkweek geput?

Geen Dood wordt van haar geest geschud

Door terp- of grondwerkklus.’ “

 

“Maar iemand graaft toch aan mijn graf?

Die feeks?—die roddel jouwt?”

– “Nee: want, nu zij jouw vlees voor goed

De poort door weet, die elk door moet,

Vindt zij dat haat er niet toe doet,

En laat jouw terp haar koud.”

 

“Maar wie graaft hier dan aan mijn graf?

Vertel—daar ik ‘t niet raad!”

– “O, ik ben het, mijn vrouwtje lief,

Je hond, die menig pootje hief

Hier;—hopelijk doet ongerief

Daaruit jouw rust geen kwaad!”

 

“O ja! Jij graaft hier aan mijn graf—

Waarom bleek me al niet gauw

Dat één trouw hart hier steeds nog was?

En welk gevoel in ‘t menselijk ras

Houdt ooit ook maar gelijke pas

Met zulke hondentrouw!”

 

” ‘k Begroef hier, vrouwtje, op je graf

Een kluif, voor op de dag

Dat ik geen voer te vinden weet

Als ik hier in mijn rondje treed.

Spijt heb ik, maar vergat compleet

Dat hier jouw rustplaats lag.”

 

Thomas Hardy:   “Ah, Are You Digging on My Grave?”

in een nieuwe vertaling van: Cornelis W. Schoneveld (jan. 2013)

kempis.nl poetry magazine

More in: Archive G-H, Hardy, Thomas, More translations

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