Vakmanskap
My geliefde vriend,
Ek wil so graag vir jou 'n gedig beeldhou,
maar die klei gly my vingers ongevorm verby,
die beitel skram etsloos teen die marmer wang.
Ek weet goed hoe om 'n vrou se vorm te vou—
my kunstenaarsoog is wel bekend met haar gekruinde lyne,
my skrywerstong ken haar valleie en haar duine.
Maar jy, my vriend, los my woordeloos.
Wie gaan my hierdie vakmanskap leer?
Hoe skryf ek die liefde van 'n mansvriend neer?
Craftsmanship
My beloved friend,
I so want to sculpt you a poem,
but the clay slips pass my fingers unimpressed,
the chisel ricochets etchless from the marble's cheek.
I know well how to fold a woman's form—
my artist's eye is well informed with her curved lines,
my writer's tongue knows her dunes and ravines.
But you, my friend, leaves me speechless.
Who will teach me this craftsmanship?
How do I scribe the love of male companionship?
... Sanko Lewis
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