Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Andrea Gibellini

Idyll

In the morning
on the terrace glistening in the sun
on the black railing drenched
with water
they constructed the hideout-nest.
I discovered it by chance removing
a dry scab of shit the dog left on
the balcony, preferring to do it in the heat of night
in the open air and tepid
sun of many moons.
In the summer days
when the heat paints
everything lime white,
the wasps go crazy, sensing the enemy.
At night, on the other hand, full of sleep,
they remain fearful in their terracotta
holes and fear the
cold: in winter they disappear
leaving the house undisturbed.
Ants and insects make noise,
silvery silences suspended in fear
and nothingness,
and I feel absolutely
no pity for them. Ends of branches
sharp as needles cut into the air and today they are
even more hostile to me. In my hand
I have a product that can exterminate them,
finally swirling them away
in an eternity void of poison.
They do not disturb, they move with
speed but do not enter,
or send my eyes
crazy, these eyes
that always look on nature with such impatience.

IDYLLE

’s Ochtends
op het terras dat flonkert in de zon
op het zwarte traliehek kletsnat
van de regen
hebben ze hun vluchthol gebouwd.
Ik heb het toevallig ontdekt bij het opruimen
van de droge, ingedikte drollen van de hond
die ze ’s nachts liever dan in de hitte
op het balkon heeft gelegd in de koelte
van zon door vele manen opgewarmd.
Op zomerdagen
als de hitte alles
tot kalk verkleurd, worden de wespen
gek, ruiken ze de vijand.
’s Nachts echter verblijven ze
diep in slaap bevreesd in de gaten
van het baksteen en zijn ze bang voor
de kou: ’s winters verdwijnen ze
en laten het huis intact.
Mieren en insecten maken geluid,
zilver en stiltes gespannen uit angst
en niets,
en daarvoor voel ik
geen enkel medelijden. De punten van de takken
prikken als naalden door de lucht en zijn vandaag
steeds meer tegen mij. Ik beschik over
een product dat ze kan uitroeien
door ze finaal op te zuigen
in een eeuwig vacuüm van gif.
Ze storen niet ze bewegen
in hoog tempo maar
ze komen er niet in ze veroorzaken
geen chaos in mijn ogen die
nooit lijdzaam de natuur aanzien.

Idillio

Al mattino
sul terrazzo luccicato dal sole
sulla ringhiera nera bagnata
dall’acqua
hanno costruito la tana-rifugio.
L’ho scoperto casualmente rimuovendo
le merde secche, rarefatte del cane
che alla notte dal caldo ha preferito
farla in balcone al fresco del sole
tiepido di molte lune.
Nei giorni d’estate
le vespe
quando il caldo colora
a calce ogni cosa,
impazziscono, sentono il nemico.
Di notte, invece, assonnate
sostano timorose nei buchi
di terracotta e temono il
freddo: d’inverno spariscono
lasciando intatta la casa.
Formiche e insetti fanno rumore,
argentini silenzi sospesi di paura
e di niente,
e per loro non provo
nessuna pietà. Le punte dei rami
come aghi incidono l’aria e oggi mi sono
sempre più nemiche. Ho in mano
un prodotto che può sterminarle
risucchiandole finalmente
in un eterno vuoto di veleno.
Non disturbano si muovono con
velocità ma non
entrano non mettono
in subbuglio i miei occhi che
guardano sempre con impazienza la natura.
Close

Idyll

In the morning
on the terrace glistening in the sun
on the black railing drenched
with water
they constructed the hideout-nest.
I discovered it by chance removing
a dry scab of shit the dog left on
the balcony, preferring to do it in the heat of night
in the open air and tepid
sun of many moons.
In the summer days
when the heat paints
everything lime white,
the wasps go crazy, sensing the enemy.
At night, on the other hand, full of sleep,
they remain fearful in their terracotta
holes and fear the
cold: in winter they disappear
leaving the house undisturbed.
Ants and insects make noise,
silvery silences suspended in fear
and nothingness,
and I feel absolutely
no pity for them. Ends of branches
sharp as needles cut into the air and today they are
even more hostile to me. In my hand
I have a product that can exterminate them,
finally swirling them away
in an eternity void of poison.
They do not disturb, they move with
speed but do not enter,
or send my eyes
crazy, these eyes
that always look on nature with such impatience.

Idyll

In the morning
on the terrace glistening in the sun
on the black railing drenched
with water
they constructed the hideout-nest.
I discovered it by chance removing
a dry scab of shit the dog left on
the balcony, preferring to do it in the heat of night
in the open air and tepid
sun of many moons.
In the summer days
when the heat paints
everything lime white,
the wasps go crazy, sensing the enemy.
At night, on the other hand, full of sleep,
they remain fearful in their terracotta
holes and fear the
cold: in winter they disappear
leaving the house undisturbed.
Ants and insects make noise,
silvery silences suspended in fear
and nothingness,
and I feel absolutely
no pity for them. Ends of branches
sharp as needles cut into the air and today they are
even more hostile to me. In my hand
I have a product that can exterminate them,
finally swirling them away
in an eternity void of poison.
They do not disturb, they move with
speed but do not enter,
or send my eyes
crazy, these eyes
that always look on nature with such impatience.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère