Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Jan Baeke

from \'SUMMER’S SIDE\', no. 4

How to stay ahead of the heat?

Sweat, sit still, think of one’s duty
to keep thoughts empty, be light for example
or embrace the murmur of creation

see god crossing, on his way
to chop down a tree
or silently write each tongue in a notebook.

A column of ants marches up the country lane
without emphasis, without a message
without offspring or firm.

Across the same country lane farm labourers
and the survivors of a pitch-black era
had walked into the village.

The cherries had been picked, wood lay in piles next to houses
the stoves were kept burning with unread proclamations.

The mayor stood in the pub’s doorway.
‘Have you had anything to eat?’
‘Yes, plenty,’ spoke the only one
who still had a tongue.

*

Children’s voices call out kiss me kiss me.
No smoky voices.

uit ‘De Kant van de Zomer’ nr. 4

uit ‘De Kant van de Zomer’ nr. 4

Hoe de warmte voor te blijven?

Zweten, stilzitten, denken aan de plicht
gedachten leeg te laten, bijvoorbeeld licht zijn
of het geruis van de schepping omhelzen

zien dat god oversteekt, op weg
om een boom om te hakken
of stil in een schrift alle tongen noteren.

Over de landweg trekt een colonne mieren
zonder nadruk, zonder boodschap
zonder nageslacht of firma.

Over dezelfde weg waren landarbeiders
en de overlevenden van een gitzwart tijdperk
het dorp binnen gelopen.

De kersen waren geplukt, hout lag in stapels naast de huizen
de kachels werden gestookt met ongelezen proclamaties.

De burgemeester stond in de deur van het café.
‘Hebben jullie al iets te eten gehad?’
‘Ja, een heleboel,’ sprak de enige
die nog een tong bezat.

*

Kinderstemmen roepen kus me kus me.
Geen rookstemmen.
Close

from \'SUMMER’S SIDE\', no. 4

How to stay ahead of the heat?

Sweat, sit still, think of one’s duty
to keep thoughts empty, be light for example
or embrace the murmur of creation

see god crossing, on his way
to chop down a tree
or silently write each tongue in a notebook.

A column of ants marches up the country lane
without emphasis, without a message
without offspring or firm.

Across the same country lane farm labourers
and the survivors of a pitch-black era
had walked into the village.

The cherries had been picked, wood lay in piles next to houses
the stoves were kept burning with unread proclamations.

The mayor stood in the pub’s doorway.
‘Have you had anything to eat?’
‘Yes, plenty,’ spoke the only one
who still had a tongue.

*

Children’s voices call out kiss me kiss me.
No smoky voices.

from \'SUMMER’S SIDE\', no. 4

How to stay ahead of the heat?

Sweat, sit still, think of one’s duty
to keep thoughts empty, be light for example
or embrace the murmur of creation

see god crossing, on his way
to chop down a tree
or silently write each tongue in a notebook.

A column of ants marches up the country lane
without emphasis, without a message
without offspring or firm.

Across the same country lane farm labourers
and the survivors of a pitch-black era
had walked into the village.

The cherries had been picked, wood lay in piles next to houses
the stoves were kept burning with unread proclamations.

The mayor stood in the pub’s doorway.
‘Have you had anything to eat?’
‘Yes, plenty,’ spoke the only one
who still had a tongue.

*

Children’s voices call out kiss me kiss me.
No smoky voices.
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