Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Remco Campert

INVISIBLE

Oh how beautiful
it was in Ostend
in that little hotel
in the rain.

I couldn’t be reached
that gentleman the manageress said
ah ne connais pas
no he has left already
I’m so sorry Madame
c’est rien Madame she said,
telephonically
to my love.

As for me I was hanging around
in the station concourse
hiding behind the evening editions
and leering at the English schoolgirls
with their little knapsacks
taking on the colour
of the wall I leant against

or at night
in my sand-coloured mackintosh
lying deadbeat on the beach
waving at the little lights
of the boat for Dover.

What a pity sir
I thought you’d already left
we never saw you
not even at breakfast
please accept
our sincere apologies
Madame will certainly be cross and
the weather has been dreadful this summer.

Invisible I thought
I’m invisible
and in a lethal gust of joy I merged
with the flowery tub chair in the corridor
with the ashen cobblestones in the church square
with the racing cyclists that rainy Sunday
with the seashell doll in the souvenir shop

and with my sweetheart
who so as not to be on the safe side
arrived after all.

ONZICHTBAAR

ONZICHTBAAR

Ach in Oostende
was het zo mooi
in het kleine hotel
in de regen.

Onbereikbaar was ik
die meneer zei de hotelhoudster
ah nee connais pas
nee die is al vertrokken
’t is spijtig madame
c’est rien madame, telefonisch
tegen mijn geliefde.

Terwijl ik stond
in de hal van het station
verborgen achter het laatste nieuws
en gluurde naar de Engelse schoolmeisjes
met hun kleine knapzak
de schutkleur aannam
van de muur waartegen ik leunde

of ’s nachts
in mijn zandkleurige regenjas
uitgeteld op het strand lag
zwaaiend naar de lichtjes
van de boot op Dover.

Ach meneer
ik dacht u was al vertrokken
we zagen u nooit
ook niet bij het ontbijt
wil ons toch vergeven
madame zal wel boos zijn en
het seizoen is al zo slecht.

Onzichtbaar dacht ik
ik ben onzichtbaar
en in een dodelijke vreugde werd één
met de gebloemde crapaud in de hotelgang
met de grauwe kasseien op het kerkplein
met de wielrenners op de verregende feestdag
met het poppetje van schelpen in de souvenirzaak 

en met mijn geliefde
die voor het zekere het onzekere nam
en kwam.
Close

INVISIBLE

Oh how beautiful
it was in Ostend
in that little hotel
in the rain.

I couldn’t be reached
that gentleman the manageress said
ah ne connais pas
no he has left already
I’m so sorry Madame
c’est rien Madame she said,
telephonically
to my love.

As for me I was hanging around
in the station concourse
hiding behind the evening editions
and leering at the English schoolgirls
with their little knapsacks
taking on the colour
of the wall I leant against

or at night
in my sand-coloured mackintosh
lying deadbeat on the beach
waving at the little lights
of the boat for Dover.

What a pity sir
I thought you’d already left
we never saw you
not even at breakfast
please accept
our sincere apologies
Madame will certainly be cross and
the weather has been dreadful this summer.

Invisible I thought
I’m invisible
and in a lethal gust of joy I merged
with the flowery tub chair in the corridor
with the ashen cobblestones in the church square
with the racing cyclists that rainy Sunday
with the seashell doll in the souvenir shop

and with my sweetheart
who so as not to be on the safe side
arrived after all.

INVISIBLE

Oh how beautiful
it was in Ostend
in that little hotel
in the rain.

I couldn’t be reached
that gentleman the manageress said
ah ne connais pas
no he has left already
I’m so sorry Madame
c’est rien Madame she said,
telephonically
to my love.

As for me I was hanging around
in the station concourse
hiding behind the evening editions
and leering at the English schoolgirls
with their little knapsacks
taking on the colour
of the wall I leant against

or at night
in my sand-coloured mackintosh
lying deadbeat on the beach
waving at the little lights
of the boat for Dover.

What a pity sir
I thought you’d already left
we never saw you
not even at breakfast
please accept
our sincere apologies
Madame will certainly be cross and
the weather has been dreadful this summer.

Invisible I thought
I’m invisible
and in a lethal gust of joy I merged
with the flowery tub chair in the corridor
with the ashen cobblestones in the church square
with the racing cyclists that rainy Sunday
with the seashell doll in the souvenir shop

and with my sweetheart
who so as not to be on the safe side
arrived after all.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère