Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Nyk de Vries

MOTORMAN

He rode around on his motorbike and I never knew what was going on in his head. One day I followed him to his cottage in the woods. I walked up to the tiny house, barged in and found him lying on his back on the wooden floor. He looked up, rose slowly and stared at me with a strange red face. I wanted to say something, but before I got it out, Motorman disappeared, never to return. I moved into the cottage and ended up living there for more than twenty years. It’s true what they say: each new house has to be better than the previous one.

MOTORMAN

Hij reed maar rond op zijn motorfiets en nooit wist ik wat er in zijn hoofd omging. Op een dag volgde ik hem naar zijn hut in het bos. Ik liep naar het hokje toe en duwde de deur met kracht open. Voor mij lag languit achterover op de houten vloer de motorman. Hij keek op, kwam langzaam overeind en staarde me aan met een vreemd rood gezicht. Ik wilde iets zeggen, maar voor ik daarin slaagde, verdween de motorman zonder ooit terug te keren. Ik nam mijn intrek in het huisje en woonde er uiteindelijk ruim twintig jaar. Het is waar wat ze zeggen: elk nieuw huis moet beter zijn dan het vorige.

MOTORMAN

Hy ried mar om op syn motorfyts en noait wist ik wat him troch de holle spile. Op in dei folge ik him nei syn hutte yn ’e bosk. Ik rûn op it hokje ta en treau de doar mei kracht iepen. Foar my lei langút achteroer op ’e houten flier de motorman. Hy seach op, kaam stadich oerein en stoarre my oan mei in frjemd read gesicht. Ik woe wat sizze, mar foar’t ik dêrta komme koe, ferdwûn de motorman sûnder oait werom te kearen. Ik naam myn yntrek yn it hûske en wenne dêr úteinlik goed twintich jier. It is wier wat se sizze: elk nij hûs moat better wêze as it foarige.
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MOTORMAN

He rode around on his motorbike and I never knew what was going on in his head. One day I followed him to his cottage in the woods. I walked up to the tiny house, barged in and found him lying on his back on the wooden floor. He looked up, rose slowly and stared at me with a strange red face. I wanted to say something, but before I got it out, Motorman disappeared, never to return. I moved into the cottage and ended up living there for more than twenty years. It’s true what they say: each new house has to be better than the previous one.

MOTORMAN

He rode around on his motorbike and I never knew what was going on in his head. One day I followed him to his cottage in the woods. I walked up to the tiny house, barged in and found him lying on his back on the wooden floor. He looked up, rose slowly and stared at me with a strange red face. I wanted to say something, but before I got it out, Motorman disappeared, never to return. I moved into the cottage and ended up living there for more than twenty years. It’s true what they say: each new house has to be better than the previous one.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
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LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère