Poem
Toon Tellegen
God wearing a dress
I think of Godin a marked-down, pale-blue summer dress
other words are wearing other dresses:
disregard, bashfulness, spite
two brothers run into each other,
beat each other to death,
they haven’t asked for this
and most certainly not for me
who randomly invented them
I sleep, tense in the extreme,
every fibre of me is asleep
and dis-understanding comes past,
a word I don’t know,
a word that’s bald, and in league with the enemy,
there’s evil talk about.
© Translation: 2016, Judith Wilkinson
God in een jurk
God in een jurk
Ik denk aan God
in een afgeprijsde, lichtblauwe zomerjurk
andere woorden dragen andere jurken:onnadenkendheid, schroom, moedwil
twee broers komen elkaar tegen,
slaan elkaar dood,
zij hebben daar niet om gevraagd
en helemaal niet om mij
die hen lukraak heeft verzonnen
ik slaap tot het uiterste gespannen,elke vezel van mij slaapt
en wanverstand komt voorbij,
een woord dat ik niet ken,
dat kaal is, met de vijand heeft geheuld
er wordt kwaadgesproken.
From: De werkelijkheid
Publisher: Querido, Amsterdam
Publisher: Querido, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Toon Tellegen
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God wearing a dress
I think of Godin a marked-down, pale-blue summer dress
other words are wearing other dresses:
disregard, bashfulness, spite
two brothers run into each other,
beat each other to death,
they haven’t asked for this
and most certainly not for me
who randomly invented them
I sleep, tense in the extreme,
every fibre of me is asleep
and dis-understanding comes past,
a word I don’t know,
a word that’s bald, and in league with the enemy,
there’s evil talk about.
© 2016, Judith Wilkinson
From: De werkelijkheid
From: De werkelijkheid
God wearing a dress
I think of Godin a marked-down, pale-blue summer dress
other words are wearing other dresses:
disregard, bashfulness, spite
two brothers run into each other,
beat each other to death,
they haven’t asked for this
and most certainly not for me
who randomly invented them
I sleep, tense in the extreme,
every fibre of me is asleep
and dis-understanding comes past,
a word I don’t know,
a word that’s bald, and in league with the enemy,
there’s evil talk about.
© 2016, Judith Wilkinson
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