Poem
Peter Verhelst
The Pine Tree and the Marching
Soon we’ll have used everything up. The grasses are yellow.We slit our wrists on it, the children their throats. Fever
makes us sing out in tongues. Cactus flowers, scorpions.
We stand in a circle, arms around the shoulders,
jumping up and down with united strength, our ankles sunk in boulders.
We have wrapped our last remaining dogs in hairs.
One spark will suffice to let them set the entire valley ablaze,
such is the power of our hope.
Nothing works.
We will have to chase the rain.
One by one the mammoths will emerge through the smoke.
On the back of the mammoths our women sit swaying their hips
They point up ahead.
Spouting fountains. Liquid mirrors in the desert.
© Translation: 2009, Astrid Alben
de pijnboom en het marcheren
de pijnboom en het marcheren
Weldra hebben we alles opgebruikt. De grassen zijn geel.We halen er de polsen aan open, de kinderen de hals. Koorts
laat ons zingen in tongen. Cactusbloemen, schorpioenen.
We staan in een kring, armen om de schouders,
met vereende krachten op en neer te springen, keien rond de enkels.
Onze laatste honden hebben we ingepakt in haren.
Eén vonk is voldoende om ze de hele vallei in lichterlaaie te laten zetten,
zo sterk is onze hoop.
Niets helpt.
We zullen de regen achterna moeten.
Eén voor één zullen de mammoeten uit de rook tevoorschijn komen.
Op de rug van de mammoeten zitten onze vrouwen te heupwiegen.
Ze wijzen voorwaarts.
Opspuitende fonteinen. Vloeibare spiegels in de woestijn.
© 2008, Peter Verhelst
From: Nieuwe sterrenbeelden
Publisher: Prometheus, Amsterdam
From: Nieuwe sterrenbeelden
Publisher: Prometheus, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Peter Verhelst
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The Pine Tree and the Marching
Soon we’ll have used everything up. The grasses are yellow.We slit our wrists on it, the children their throats. Fever
makes us sing out in tongues. Cactus flowers, scorpions.
We stand in a circle, arms around the shoulders,
jumping up and down with united strength, our ankles sunk in boulders.
We have wrapped our last remaining dogs in hairs.
One spark will suffice to let them set the entire valley ablaze,
such is the power of our hope.
Nothing works.
We will have to chase the rain.
One by one the mammoths will emerge through the smoke.
On the back of the mammoths our women sit swaying their hips
They point up ahead.
Spouting fountains. Liquid mirrors in the desert.
© 2009, Astrid Alben
From: Nieuwe sterrenbeelden
From: Nieuwe sterrenbeelden
The Pine Tree and the Marching
Soon we’ll have used everything up. The grasses are yellow.We slit our wrists on it, the children their throats. Fever
makes us sing out in tongues. Cactus flowers, scorpions.
We stand in a circle, arms around the shoulders,
jumping up and down with united strength, our ankles sunk in boulders.
We have wrapped our last remaining dogs in hairs.
One spark will suffice to let them set the entire valley ablaze,
such is the power of our hope.
Nothing works.
We will have to chase the rain.
One by one the mammoths will emerge through the smoke.
On the back of the mammoths our women sit swaying their hips
They point up ahead.
Spouting fountains. Liquid mirrors in the desert.
© 2009, Astrid Alben
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