DK's Villon 19 i dag - tillykke!

Yahya Hassan bliver 19 i dag og går dermed ind i sit tyvende år som international outsider-poet. En forfader er helt klart Francois Villon, født 1431 og forsvundet ud af syne 1463, en mindst lige så frenetisk  og mesterligt digtende, inderligt og yderligt selvoptaget, ung tyveknægt; her er en engelsk oversættelse af hans morbide dobbeltdigt (læg mærke til kropshår-optagetheden, som YH deler)

Le Testament: Epitaph et Rondeau

Epitaph

Here there lies, and sleeps in the grave,
One whom Love killed with his scorn,
A poor little scholar in every way,
He was named François Villon.
He never reaped a morsel of corn:
Willed all away, as all men know:
Bed, table, and basket all are gone.
Gallants, now sing his song below:

Rondeau

Oh, grant him now eternal peace,

Lord, and everlasting light,

He wasn’t worth a candle bright,

Nor even a sprig of parsley.

Of eyebrows, hair, and beard he’s free,

A turnip scraped with a spade, all right:

Oh, grant him now eternal peace.

Exiled with strict severity,

Rapped behind with a spade, despite

It all he cried: ‘Appeal, for me!’

–      Which wasn’t the height of subtlety.

Oh, grant him now eternal peace.

 

- Villon smider håndtegn til sin moderne broder i ånden