Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Hasso Krull

Father, can’t you see that I’m burning?

Father, can’t you see that I’m burning?
That’s what the little boy said to Freud.
But Freud had already dozed off. A candle
in his hand, his head sunken to his chest, he

staggered and had a dream: he was
a small boy again, he ran along the edge of the sidewalk,
the hot sun shining and, from above, an eagle
came and pecked his eyes out of his head.

How is it that I see this dream now,
thought Freud, if I no longer have eyes; how
can I avoid falling off the edge of the sidewalk?
This idea causes Freud to wake up.

The little boy is bending over him,
a deathwatch candle in his hand, and he says:
Once upon a time there lived a man
who had never had a single dream.

Vader, zie je niet dat ik in brand sta?

Vader, zie je niet dat ik in brand sta?
Zo sprak het jongetje tegen Freud.
Maar die was al ingedut. Een kaars
in de hand, het hoofd op de borst gezonken, zo
 
zat hij te knikkebollen en droomde: hij was nog maar
een klein jongetje, liep langs de stoeprand,
de zon scheen fel, en van boven kwam een
adelaar naar beneden en pikte hem de ogen uit.
 
Hoe moet ik zonder ogen
nu dromen krijgen, dacht Freud, hoe
moet ik op de stoep blijven? Bij
deze gedachte wordt Freud wakker.
 
Een jongetje, met dodenwakekaars in de hand,
buigt zich over hem heen en zegt:
Er was eens een man, die nog nooit
één enkele droom had gekregen.

Isa, kas sa ei näe, et ma põlen?
Nõnda kõneles väike poiss Freudile.
See aga oli juba tukkuma jäänud. Küünal
käes, pea rinnale langenud, nõnda ta

tuikus ja nägi unes: ta oli alles
väikene poiss, jooksis mööda kõnnitee äärt,
päike paistis palavasti, ja ülalt tuli üks
kotkas ja nokkis tal silmad peast.

Kuidas näha nüüd und, mõtles Freud,
kui mul enam silmi ei ole; kuidas
kõnnitee servalt mitte kukkuda? Selle
mõtte juures Freud ärkabki üles.

Tema kohale kummardub väike poiss,
käes surnuvalve küünal, ja räägib:
Ükskord elas üks mees, kes ei olnud
kunagi näinud ühtegi unenägu.
Close

Father, can’t you see that I’m burning?

Father, can’t you see that I’m burning?
That’s what the little boy said to Freud.
But Freud had already dozed off. A candle
in his hand, his head sunken to his chest, he

staggered and had a dream: he was
a small boy again, he ran along the edge of the sidewalk,
the hot sun shining and, from above, an eagle
came and pecked his eyes out of his head.

How is it that I see this dream now,
thought Freud, if I no longer have eyes; how
can I avoid falling off the edge of the sidewalk?
This idea causes Freud to wake up.

The little boy is bending over him,
a deathwatch candle in his hand, and he says:
Once upon a time there lived a man
who had never had a single dream.

Father, can’t you see that I’m burning?

Father, can’t you see that I’m burning?
That’s what the little boy said to Freud.
But Freud had already dozed off. A candle
in his hand, his head sunken to his chest, he

staggered and had a dream: he was
a small boy again, he ran along the edge of the sidewalk,
the hot sun shining and, from above, an eagle
came and pecked his eyes out of his head.

How is it that I see this dream now,
thought Freud, if I no longer have eyes; how
can I avoid falling off the edge of the sidewalk?
This idea causes Freud to wake up.

The little boy is bending over him,
a deathwatch candle in his hand, and he says:
Once upon a time there lived a man
who had never had a single dream.
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