Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Piotr Sommer

Full Harvest

And it seemed it was time for us to die
somehow right now, this afternoon, but the apples
were abundant that year and ripened
before autumn really showed what it was made of.
Even the water shoots arced into branches.

And now the sun is happily drinking water
from the puddle at the gate and the burdock-
sized leaves of the lilac, but the warmth isn’t enough for it,
the day smacks of humidity. Again the magpie chatters
in its own way, and old friends, one after another,

will deny us, and we would be the last
to want to hinder them, but neither
to overlook this, because then how would the others cope,
high and dry, without a word from us.

OOGST

En volgens mij moesten wij dood ergens
vlak na de middag, maar appels
waren er dat jaar volop en rijp
nog voor uit de herfst was gekomen, wat er werkelijk in zat.
Zelfs de woekerplanten hadden zich tot takken gebogen.

En nu drinkt de zon alsof er niets is gebeurd het water
op uit de verzakking bij het poortje en de als klissen
welige vlierbladeren, maar hij heeft te weinig warmte,
de dag riekt naar vocht. De ekster kwettert weer
op zijn manier en oude vrienden zullen om beurten

ons verloochenen, en wij zullen dat zeker niet
willen bemoeilijken, maar over het hoofd zien
evenmin, want hoe zouden later anderen zich moeten redden,
zo zonder omhaal, zo zonder een woord van ons.

URODZAJ

I chyba mieliśmy umierać jakoś
tuż zaraz po południu, ale jabłka
obrodziły tego roku i dojrzały
zanim z jesieni wyszło, co w niej naprawdę siedzi.
Nawet wilcze pędy wygięły się w gałęzie.

I teraz słońce w najlepsze pije sobie wodę
w zagłębieniu przy furtce i na przerośniętych
łopuchowato liściach bzu, ale nie starcza mu ciepła,
dzień zalatuje wilgocią. Sroka znów skrzeczy
po swojemu i dawni przyjaciele kolejno

będą się nas wypierać, a my w najmniejszym stopniu
nie chcielibyśmy tego utrudniać, ale przegapić
też nie, bo jak by potem mieli radzić sobie inni,
tak na sucho, bez słowa z naszej strony.
Close

Full Harvest

And it seemed it was time for us to die
somehow right now, this afternoon, but the apples
were abundant that year and ripened
before autumn really showed what it was made of.
Even the water shoots arced into branches.

And now the sun is happily drinking water
from the puddle at the gate and the burdock-
sized leaves of the lilac, but the warmth isn’t enough for it,
the day smacks of humidity. Again the magpie chatters
in its own way, and old friends, one after another,

will deny us, and we would be the last
to want to hinder them, but neither
to overlook this, because then how would the others cope,
high and dry, without a word from us.

Full Harvest

And it seemed it was time for us to die
somehow right now, this afternoon, but the apples
were abundant that year and ripened
before autumn really showed what it was made of.
Even the water shoots arced into branches.

And now the sun is happily drinking water
from the puddle at the gate and the burdock-
sized leaves of the lilac, but the warmth isn’t enough for it,
the day smacks of humidity. Again the magpie chatters
in its own way, and old friends, one after another,

will deny us, and we would be the last
to want to hinder them, but neither
to overlook this, because then how would the others cope,
high and dry, without a word from us.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère