Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

H.H. ter Balkt

The Ants

The ants moved into a house
right below ours;
our address did not become theirs:
a sand hill under the floor

The hessian road of the ants
ran from the kitchen cupboards
past the drainpipes, and vice versa
down to their factory shop floors
The stream of workers dressed in
shining black trotted to and fro
in an Asian rhythm

In their footsteps the song of substance
droned, ‘Matter, matter’
– There is nothing but matter
They transported strawberry particles
but dust flecks too and other burdens
to their underground warehouse,
their tinning factory

If I were to fall to pieces
by the kitchen sink,
then they would lift sweet portions of lip;
ant centurions would bear
my no longer functioning eyeball
How the conveyor belt would rattle,
there in the depths

The ants show no mercy
I wouldn’t like to fall down
under the kitchen cupboards
alone with the ants

De mieren

De mieren

De mieren betrokken een huis
pal onder het onze;
ons adres werd niet ’t hunne:
een zandhoop onder de vloer

De hessenweg van de mieren
liep van de keukenkastjes
langs de afvoerbuizen, en vice versa
omlaag naar hun fabriekshallen
De stroom van in glimmend zwart
gehulde werklieden draafde
in een Aziatisch ritme op en af

In hun voetstappen gonsde de zang
van de stof, ‘Materie, materie’
– Er is niets anders dan materie
Zij vervoerden partikels aardbei
maar ook stofdeeltjes en andere lasten
naar hun ondergronds magazijn,
hun conservenindustrie

Zou ik in stukken uiteenvallen
bij de gootsteenkast,
dan droegen zij zoete porties lip;
mieren-honderdmannen torsten
mijn niet langer functionerende oogbol
Wat zou de lopende band ratelen,
daar in de diepte

De mieren kennen geen genade
Ik zou niet graag neervallen
onder de keukenkastjes
alleen met de mieren
Close

The Ants

The ants moved into a house
right below ours;
our address did not become theirs:
a sand hill under the floor

The hessian road of the ants
ran from the kitchen cupboards
past the drainpipes, and vice versa
down to their factory shop floors
The stream of workers dressed in
shining black trotted to and fro
in an Asian rhythm

In their footsteps the song of substance
droned, ‘Matter, matter’
– There is nothing but matter
They transported strawberry particles
but dust flecks too and other burdens
to their underground warehouse,
their tinning factory

If I were to fall to pieces
by the kitchen sink,
then they would lift sweet portions of lip;
ant centurions would bear
my no longer functioning eyeball
How the conveyor belt would rattle,
there in the depths

The ants show no mercy
I wouldn’t like to fall down
under the kitchen cupboards
alone with the ants

The Ants

The ants moved into a house
right below ours;
our address did not become theirs:
a sand hill under the floor

The hessian road of the ants
ran from the kitchen cupboards
past the drainpipes, and vice versa
down to their factory shop floors
The stream of workers dressed in
shining black trotted to and fro
in an Asian rhythm

In their footsteps the song of substance
droned, ‘Matter, matter’
– There is nothing but matter
They transported strawberry particles
but dust flecks too and other burdens
to their underground warehouse,
their tinning factory

If I were to fall to pieces
by the kitchen sink,
then they would lift sweet portions of lip;
ant centurions would bear
my no longer functioning eyeball
How the conveyor belt would rattle,
there in the depths

The ants show no mercy
I wouldn’t like to fall down
under the kitchen cupboards
alone with the ants
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
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