Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Nyk de Vries

GREENGROCER

It was early in the morning. In the distance I saw a big black cross, but when I more or less crashed into it on my bike it turned out to be a charred tree. I sat down, took out a bottle of Fanta, my favourite drink, and after about a quarter of an hour I saw a small van drive up. It was the mobile greengrocer. He stopped, got out and dumped his entire load of carrots, peppers, lettuces and cauliflowers in the ditch. I looked on stunned, although I understood what was happening. I’d seen it with a friend of mine in showbiz. Whatever you sell, you end up hating.

GROENTEKAR

GROENTEKAR

Het was vroeg in de ochtend. In de verte zag ik een groot zwart kruis, maar toen ik er min of meer met mijn fiets tegenaan knalde, bleek het een verkoolde boom te zijn. Ik ging zitten, pakte een flesje Fanta, mijn favoriete drank, en na ongeveer een kwartier zag ik hoe een kleine wagen aan kwam rijden. Het was een groentekar. De bestuurder stopte, stapte uit en gooide de hele inhoud, al de bloemkolen, wortels, paprika’s en kroppen sla in de sloot. Versuft keek ik toe, hoewel ik begreep wat er gebeurde. Ik kende het van een vriend van me uit de showbizz. Alles wat je verkoopt dat ga je haten.
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GREENGROCER

It was early in the morning. In the distance I saw a big black cross, but when I more or less crashed into it on my bike it turned out to be a charred tree. I sat down, took out a bottle of Fanta, my favourite drink, and after about a quarter of an hour I saw a small van drive up. It was the mobile greengrocer. He stopped, got out and dumped his entire load of carrots, peppers, lettuces and cauliflowers in the ditch. I looked on stunned, although I understood what was happening. I’d seen it with a friend of mine in showbiz. Whatever you sell, you end up hating.

GREENGROCER

It was early in the morning. In the distance I saw a big black cross, but when I more or less crashed into it on my bike it turned out to be a charred tree. I sat down, took out a bottle of Fanta, my favourite drink, and after about a quarter of an hour I saw a small van drive up. It was the mobile greengrocer. He stopped, got out and dumped his entire load of carrots, peppers, lettuces and cauliflowers in the ditch. I looked on stunned, although I understood what was happening. I’d seen it with a friend of mine in showbiz. Whatever you sell, you end up hating.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Hendrik Muller fonds
Lira fonds
J.E. Jurriaanse
Literature Translation Institute of Korea
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère