Internationale Poetry-Biennale - Filmfestival - Salon - Netzwerk
___Festival 2018________Europe_Inside_/_Outside________Wien 24_10 | München 26-28_10
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Laura Accerboni (CH)
Lubi Barre (SO)
Lucy Beynon (GB)
Bela Chekurishvili (GE)
Audrey Chen (CN)
Odile Cornuz (CH)
Abbie Conant (US)
Oya Erdoğan (TR)
Katrin Sofie F. (DE)
Heike Fröhlich (DE)
Zsuzsanna Gahse (CH)
Petra Ganglbauer (AT)
Romana Ganzoni (CH)
Sabine Gruber (IT)
Lisa Jeschke (DE)
Kateryna Kalytko (UA)
Giedrė Kazlauskaitė (LT)
Judith Keller (CH)
Eka Kevanishvili (GE)
Margret Kreidl (AT)
Augusta Laar (DE/CH)
Kalle Laar (DE)
Zuzana Lazarová (CZ)
Swantje Lichtenstein (DE)
Barbi Marković (RS)
Olga Martynova (RU)
Gonca Özmen (TR)
Lynn Parkerson (US)
Rosa Pock (AT)
Dragica Rajčić (HR)
Oksana Sabuschko (UA)
Zoë Skoulding (GB)
Marie Šťastná (CZ)
Kinga Thót (HU)
Iryna Tsilyk (UA)
Anja Utler (DE)
Antje Vowinkel (DE)
Anne Waldman (US)
Elisabeth Wandeler-Deck (CH)
Neşe Yaşın (Zypern)
Barbara Yurtdas (DE)
Nora Zapf (DE)
(München/Wien)
whiteBOX München
Gründerin und Leiterin des Schamrock-Festivals der Dichterinnen.
Musikstudium in München (LMU, Richard-Strauss-Konservatorium). Arbeitsschwerpunkte: Lyrik, Elektroakustik, Mixed-Media. Leiterin der Lyrikerinnen-Reihe Schamrock-Salon der Dichterinnen in München seit 2009.
Botschafterin der schule für dichtung wien beim Festival Internacional de Poesía de Medellín 2016. Zahlreiche Ausstellungen, Konzerte und Lesungen. Zuletzt erschienen: Planet 9, Gedichte, Fragmente, Instruktionen, 2017, summt dem fall, 2016.
Kunst oder Unfall - Performance
Founding director of the Schamrock-Festival of Women Poets.
Studoed music in Munich at the Richard-Strauss-Conservatory. As an artist she focuses on poetry, electro-acoustic, mixed-media. Since 2009 director of the poetry series Reihe Schamrock-Salon.
In 2016, she was ambassador of the Vienna poetry school at the Festival Internacional de Poesía de Medellín. Many exhibitions, concerts and reading events.
Latest publications: Planet 9, Poetry, Fragments, Instructions, 2017, summt dem fall, 2016.
MASKUMAMBANG BUAT IBU
apakah yang tengah kusepah dan kuhisap ini
ruas-ruas tebu yang memancarkan manis airnya
atau kasar dan kurus buku-buku jarimu
yang mengeluarkan darah
manis atau amis telah sulit kubedakan
semenjak kusadari sepanjang hidupmu
keringat dan air mata tak henti
mengaliri setiap gurat wajahmu
(yang seperti garis sayatan di daun sirih)
rentang urat kakimu telah serupa akar menjalar
dari pohon-pohon yang kau tanam
bahkan tak kukenali lagi
kerut ataukah kisut lurik terbakar
kulit tanganmu itu
tangan yang setia mengangsur-angsur kayu bakar
demi secerek air teh yang dijerang di atas tungku
(air kasih keemasan yang tertuang dari cerat batinmu
ke cangkir lubuk hati kami)
tangan yang tulus ngakeul nasi di bakul
--melikatkan kehidupan agar masak terolah—
tangan yang tak lelah menumbuhkan benih di ladang
meski angin menderu merontokkan rambutmu yang mayang
di punggung menggelantung matahari
dan di pangkuan membenam bulan
ibu masih harus menyangga beban gunung dan laut
tetapi, bahkan tanah yang diinjak
tak pernah mendengar hempasan keluh
(ibu, menyadari semua itu
hatiku bagai diparut
darahnya tak surut-surut)
2012-2014
*) ngakeul : salah satu tradisi orang Sunda, setelah nasi ditanak dan dimasukkan ke bakul, langsung diaduk sambil dikipasi agar pulen/likat.
MASKUMAMBANG FOR MOTHER
what I’m chewing and sucking
some pieces of sugarcane that spouted out its sweet water
or your rough and tiny knuckles
discharged blood
sweet or fishy hard to differ
since I realized for the whole of your life
sweet and tears keep on dripping
flowing through every lines of your face
(seem like slices on a betel leaf
stretch of vein on your leg seem like roots creeping all over
from the trees you grew
more than that, I know no more
wrinkle and sun-baked
of your hands skin
the dedicated hands push firewood
for a cup of tea boiled on the fireplace
(golden water of love poured from the depth of your heart
into the cup of our inner)
sincere hands turned over the rice in bamboo basket
to thicken and stick so that cooking completely done
tireless hands grew the seed in the field
though the wind blew howling loosing your loosely hung hair
on your back hung the sun
on your lap immersed the moon
moreover, she shall bear the burden of the mountain and the sea
nevertheless, even the ground trampled on
never heard her grumble
( mother, reconciled as a whole
my heart as if it were grated
blood bleeding ceaseless)