Poem
Mark Boog
OUR ABSENCE
Our absence was apparentfrom the overgrown shrubs
from the grass that needed mowing,
from the birds, the clouds, the gaps.
Not speaking until it becomes
deliberate silence, a disappearance,
something that’s difficult
to resent. The overcast sky:
us. Search parties have been called off,
dogs called back, news reports
forgotten. Don’t move, that just
makes circles in the pool of silence.
© Translation: 2008, Michele Hutchison
Onze Afwezigheid
Onze Afwezigheid
Onze afwezigheid was verklaarbaaruit de hoogte van de bomen,
uit het gras, dat gemaaid moest worden,
uit de vogels, de wolken, de gaten.
Zo lang niets zeggen dat het zwijgen heet,
verdwijnen wordt genoemd, dat het
nog maar moeilijk kwalijk kan
worden genomen. Het grijs van de lucht:
wij. Zoektochten werden afgeblazen,
honden teruggeroepen, nieuwberichten
vergeten. Beweeg je niet, dat geeft maar
kringen in de vijver van de stilte.
© 2003, Mark Boog
Publisher: First published on PIW,
Publisher: First published on PIW,
Poems
Poems of Mark Boog
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OUR ABSENCE
Our absence was apparentfrom the overgrown shrubs
from the grass that needed mowing,
from the birds, the clouds, the gaps.
Not speaking until it becomes
deliberate silence, a disappearance,
something that’s difficult
to resent. The overcast sky:
us. Search parties have been called off,
dogs called back, news reports
forgotten. Don’t move, that just
makes circles in the pool of silence.
© 2008, Michele Hutchison
OUR ABSENCE
Our absence was apparentfrom the overgrown shrubs
from the grass that needed mowing,
from the birds, the clouds, the gaps.
Not speaking until it becomes
deliberate silence, a disappearance,
something that’s difficult
to resent. The overcast sky:
us. Search parties have been called off,
dogs called back, news reports
forgotten. Don’t move, that just
makes circles in the pool of silence.
© 2008, Michele Hutchison
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