Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Roni Margulies

TRAVOLATORS

My first plane ride, how can I forget it.
We showed our tickets and exited the gate,
my grandad on one side, my mum on the other,
a blue bus came along, then left us
right beneath the wing. I was eleven.
Our destination was fixed, as was our return:
we were off to spend a week in İzmir.

The second time, six years later, I remember too,
heading away to university, ticket in hand,
out there a new world awaiting me.
Now to get to the plane from the waiting lounge
you had to pass through travolators.
As if playing hop scotch I skipped along.

When I looked out of the window
I saw behind me rows of travolators
each like a huge finger that was
pointing out something, it seemed.
What were they trying to say?
What was it I was expected to see?
I still wonder about that sometimes.

SLURVEN

Hoe kan ik het ooit vergeten, mijn allereerste vlucht.
We lieten onze tickets zien en liepen de gate uit,
links van mij mijn opa, rechts mijn moeder.
Een lichtblauwe bus bracht ons helemaal
tot onder de vleugel. Ik was elf jaar oud.
Ons vertrek en onze terugkeer stonden vast:
We gingen een weekje naar Izmir.

Ook de tweede, zes jaar later, staat in mijn geheugen gegrift:
Ik ga om te studeren: met in mijn hand een ticket,
voor me een nieuwe wereld die op me wacht.
Deze keer gingen we door een slurf
van de wachtruimte naar het vliegtuig.
Mijn gang leek op die van een hinkelend kind.

Toen ik zat en uit mijn raampje keek
leek de lange rij slurven achter mij
op net zovele reuzenvingers die
naar iets leken te wijzen.
Wat was het dat ze wilden zeggen?
Waarop wilden ze me wijzen?
Soms vraag ik me dat nog steeds af.

KÖRÜKLER

Nasıl unutabilirim, ilk binişimdi uçağa.
Biletlerimizi gösterip çıkmıştık kapıdan,
bir yanımda dedem, birinde annem,
mavi bir otobüs gelip bırakmıştı bizi
kanadın tam altına. On birdi yaşım.
Gidişimiz belliydi, dönüşümüz belli:
İzmir’e gidiyorduk bir haftalığına.

İkincisi altı yıl sonra. Aklımda o da.
Okumaya gidiyorum: elimde biletim,
önümde beni bekleyen yeni bir dünya.
Körüklerden geçip gidiliyordu artık
bekleme salonundan doğru uçağa.
Sek sek oynar gibi yürüdüm gittim.

Oturup pencereden baktığımda,
arkamda sıra sıra körükler,
koca birer parmak sanki hepsi
bir şeye işaret eder gibiydiler.
Neydi söylemek istedikleri?
Neye çekiyorlardı dikkatimi?
Merak ederim arada bir hâlâ.
Close

TRAVOLATORS

My first plane ride, how can I forget it.
We showed our tickets and exited the gate,
my grandad on one side, my mum on the other,
a blue bus came along, then left us
right beneath the wing. I was eleven.
Our destination was fixed, as was our return:
we were off to spend a week in İzmir.

The second time, six years later, I remember too,
heading away to university, ticket in hand,
out there a new world awaiting me.
Now to get to the plane from the waiting lounge
you had to pass through travolators.
As if playing hop scotch I skipped along.

When I looked out of the window
I saw behind me rows of travolators
each like a huge finger that was
pointing out something, it seemed.
What were they trying to say?
What was it I was expected to see?
I still wonder about that sometimes.

TRAVOLATORS

My first plane ride, how can I forget it.
We showed our tickets and exited the gate,
my grandad on one side, my mum on the other,
a blue bus came along, then left us
right beneath the wing. I was eleven.
Our destination was fixed, as was our return:
we were off to spend a week in İzmir.

The second time, six years later, I remember too,
heading away to university, ticket in hand,
out there a new world awaiting me.
Now to get to the plane from the waiting lounge
you had to pass through travolators.
As if playing hop scotch I skipped along.

When I looked out of the window
I saw behind me rows of travolators
each like a huge finger that was
pointing out something, it seemed.
What were they trying to say?
What was it I was expected to see?
I still wonder about that sometimes.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Hendrik Muller fonds
Lira fonds
J.E. Jurriaanse
Literature Translation Institute of Korea
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère