EMMAN USMAN SHEHU [11.424]

Emman Usman Shehu  

Poeta. Nació en Kaduna, Nigeria, durante su período como la capital de la antigua Región Norte. Presidente de ANA Abuja

DR. EMMAN USMAN SHEHU, founding President of Abuja Writers Forum (AWF), and Director of the International Institute of Journalism (IIJ), Abuja, hails from Maradun in Zamfara State. The holder of doctorate in African Literature in English has published two collections of poetry, Questions For Big Brother and Open Sesame. A third collection, Icarus Rising will soon be available. He is also working on a collection of short stories. Shehu is a veteran journalist, having worked in both broadcast and print media. He has also had a stint as a university lecturer. He is currently nurturing the fledgling Topaz Publishing House which has recently published Ozioma Izuora’s Dreams Deffered (Fiction) and Iyorwuese Hagher’s Once Upon An Eagle (Poetry). In this interview with SUMAILA UMAISHA, he speaks about the AWF; its objectives, activities, problems and prospects. 

Cantante

Estás de pie en la desnuda plataforma

bajo el brillo solitario

una isla de atención,

una imagen vulnerable—

y viertes tu corazón,

un río de canciones inocentes.

¿Cómo es posible tanta ternura

en un corazón lleno de cicatrices?

Me enseñas a perdonar

bajo una lámpara incandescente.

Oh Cantante, oh Cantante,

escucho este río de canciones—

a veces veloz como un diluvio,

otras lento como el ocaso—

que sale a raudales de tu corazón herido.

¿Cómo es posible tanta pasión

en un alma llena de grietas?

Me enseñas a soportar

en una isla solitaria.

Oh Cantante, oh Cantante,

escucho este río de canciones

a veces suave como un murmullo

que fluye de tu corazón.

 Traducción de Coral Ruvalcaba

Songstress

You stand on the stark platform

under the lone glow

an island of attention,

a vulnerable picture—

pouring out your heart,

a river of candid songs.

How come such tenderness,

from a heart full of scars?

You teach me forgiveness

under a tungsten lamp.

O Songstress, O Songstress,

I hear this river of songs—

sometimes as fast as a flood,

now and again slow as twilight—

pouring out of your wounded heart.

How come such passion

from a soul full of fissures?

You teach me endurance

on a lonely island.

O Songstress, O Songstress,

I hear this river of songs

sometimes soft as a whisper,

streaming out of your heart.

Concordance 

Season after season she cuts 

a picture of uncertainty, 

held down by their hearsays, 

in this city without pity. 

One day she shuts her brimming ears, 

takes the plunge from the springboard 

into the pool of matrimony, 

thrashing for strokes of harmony. 

He makes sacrificial adjustments 

punching gaping holes in those hearsays, 

and both hearts make disbursements, 

one for all, all for one. 

Gorgon 

The snake-haired woman 

stares straight 

into your surprised eye-balls 

as you steer into her strait 

and you feel a chill 

running down your spine, 

and you sense a myth 

shattering through sanity's shell. 

The snake-haired woman 

veers away 

and finds her way 

as the crowd suddenly 

parts like the Red Sea. 

The snake-haired woman 

leaves a nasty trail 

of fear in your spine 

and a strong smell 

of her presence 

sticks in your nose 

as you gasp for breath, 

and awake in her arms 

of draconian decrees. 

The snake-haired woman 

sinks her cruel claws 

into your trembling heart, 

and her forked tongue 

snakes down your throat, 

and you hear her gloat 

relishing the blood of her kill.