Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Mourid Barghouti

COUNSEL

Perplexed and not knowing what to do,
he summoned us
and we obeyed.
We stood under his marble balcony:
he looked sad.
His hands have been shaking
since a fortune-teller said to him:
“You’ll die if you do not seek somebody’s counsel.”
He cleared his throat
and mapped us with his eyes.
We almost believed that,
for once,
in a thousand years,
he’d give one of us the chance to speak.
He reached out for a looking-glass,
raised it,
stared at it,
asked it to speak out.
When it did,
he thanked it
then smashed it
lest it should get used
to the right to speak

RAAD

Een marmeren beeld twijfelde aan zichzelf
en vroeg ons naar zijn voetstuk te komen
hij was bedroefd en had trillende handen
een Perzische waarzegster had hem gezegd
dat hij zou sterven tenzij hij om raad vroeg
hij schraapte zijn keel
en keek van de één naar de ander
wij geloofden bijna niet dat hij, voor het eerst in duizend jaar 
één van ons de gelegenheid gaf tot hem te spreken
ons beeld
haalde een spiegel te voorschijn, keek erin
en stelde een vraag
de spiegel gaf raad, hij bedankte
en brak hem
bang dat hij aan het recht om te spreken zou wennen

Close

COUNSEL

Perplexed and not knowing what to do,
he summoned us
and we obeyed.
We stood under his marble balcony:
he looked sad.
His hands have been shaking
since a fortune-teller said to him:
“You’ll die if you do not seek somebody’s counsel.”
He cleared his throat
and mapped us with his eyes.
We almost believed that,
for once,
in a thousand years,
he’d give one of us the chance to speak.
He reached out for a looking-glass,
raised it,
stared at it,
asked it to speak out.
When it did,
he thanked it
then smashed it
lest it should get used
to the right to speak

COUNSEL

Perplexed and not knowing what to do,
he summoned us
and we obeyed.
We stood under his marble balcony:
he looked sad.
His hands have been shaking
since a fortune-teller said to him:
“You’ll die if you do not seek somebody’s counsel.”
He cleared his throat
and mapped us with his eyes.
We almost believed that,
for once,
in a thousand years,
he’d give one of us the chance to speak.
He reached out for a looking-glass,
raised it,
stared at it,
asked it to speak out.
When it did,
he thanked it
then smashed it
lest it should get used
to the right to speak
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
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère