J. M. Coetzee has described Breyten Breytenbach as "able to descend effortlessly into the Africa of the poetic unconscious and return with the rhythm and the words, the words in the rhythm, that give life." "Windcatcher" is a collection of Breytenbach's best work in poetry from 1964 to 2006, and includes many poems never before published. There are poems here from Paris in the sixties; poems written in prison, when Breytenbach was jailed in South Africa for seven years for his activities against the apartheid regime; poems of exile from New York in the nineties; poems from Vancouver, from Amsterdam, from Dar es-Salaam. "Windcatcher "is a remarkable record of a remarkable life and imagination. it is when night is at its deepestjust before morning that the muezzin calls the faithfulfor they are still asleepand his sad cry drifts over index fingers of minaretsrooftops and lovers and flowers and dockshis sad cry dawns over city --from "Dar es-Salaam: Harbor of Peace"
Breyten Breytenbach was a South African writer, poet, and painter. He became internationally well-known as a dissident poet and vocal critic of South Africa under apartheid, and as a political prisoner of the National Party-led South African Government. He is also known as a founding member of the Sestigers, a dissident literary movement, and was one of the most important living poets in Afrikaans literature.
and sometimes lightning flashed from your lips and sometimes your syllables were a caressing rain, enjambments of rain over pale hillsides of the woman, the times of her time when you were voice only, […] voice is of the wind in the trees at night do they not know you cannot spear the heart? * […] but also that I’ve come to recognize rooms of loneliness, the soiling of dreams, the remains of memories, thin wailing of the violin where eyes turn away to look ever further, ears mouse-quietly listen inward— * how often were we here where only silver shadows stir only through you I had to deny myself through you alone I knew I had no harbor in a burning sea * sweet and somber breath streamed all night through my window, and the silver bracken of the moon — and other matter throbbed in space — tatters, snapshots, flitting memories, filaments of what we never could gather furnished the dream —
to the sea we cannot go back the sea has grown old with white wrinkles and foam around the lips
we cannot return to the desert there's violence behind the dunes ant fortresses on their way to war in pale valleys the jackals trot through light nights each within the cool zareba of his shadow steps
all borders are now fronts and fire lines we are well up shit creek
here we shall dawdle where the suburbs have been leveled and soiled grave diggers live in cellars transparent as if of the present self-contained like faucets deaf to their own dripping the blind things devouring corpses with nothing new to show except second-mouth false teeth
here the hands of sextons are shivering with wrinkles and the foam from dark corpses they had to wash perfuming bridegrooms for the bridal bed
here we tumble implosively to new interior boundaries
A collection of poems spanning over forty years and many continents. Breytenbach has certainly proven himself as a fine example of the poet of duende, the deep song, and the deep image. The poems are political not like those of so many poets writing today (without life experience to back up the work), but in a vein similar to many South American poets who’s use of fantastic images, folklore, and memory create the kind of disjointed narrative born of modern imperialism and brutality. Some poems notable poems include: “there is life,” “for the singers,” and “not with the pen but the machine gun.”