Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Admiel Kosman

MORNING PRAYER


Don’t take it out of the world.
Leave it in the world for me.
Leave her gentle stirring
at the window,
set going by first
light, one thumb dug
into the pillow and the motions that follow
of her arm, the palm of her hand. Leave this eyelid of hers
in the world for me. Leave it for me slightly parted
in the soft light from behind the curtain. And leave me too that middle finger
of hers, which battles with a strand of rebellious hair. And
that amazing movement that runs from her back and accompanies her to the tips
of a ring finger, and a pinky. And please leave her hair
gathered up for so many years,
to this day, with a ribbon.
And leave the gold, if possible,
leave this ray of splendor
that has been falling thousands of years in
the same one-thousandth of a second. Between the two mounds of her breasts.
Once and for all. Leave me
everything, beautiful. Fasten
everything into the light.
Like this presence of hers now.
In the pure morning.

OCHTENDGEBED


Pak het de wereld niet af.
Laat het op de wereld blijven, voor mij.
Laat het voor mij in dit raam liggen,
Dit tedere gebaar van haar,
Zoals zij bij het eerste daglicht
Een duim verroert die in het kussen
Steekt. En de klimmende beweging erachteraan,
Van de arm, de hand. Laat dat ooglid van haar op
De wereld blijven zoals het is, ietsje toe, in het zachte licht
Achter het gordijn. En laat ook die ene middelvinger blijven
Die met een enkel weerbarstig haartje worstelt. En de
Verbluffende beweging die er vanachter op volgt, met
De punt van de ringvinger, daarna de pink. En laat die haren
Van haar blijven die sinds jaar en dag en tot op heden
Met een strik vastgebonden zijn.
En laat, als het even kan, ook het goud liggen.
Laat deze schitterende lichtstraal
Die al duizenden jaren binnen hetzelfde
Duizendste valt, tussen haar twee borstpartijen in,
Eens en voor al blijven. Laat alles zo liggen,
Netjes, voor mij. Bind
Alles samen in het licht.
Evenals dit heden van haar.
In de reine ochtend.

תפילת שחרית

Close

MORNING PRAYER


Don’t take it out of the world.
Leave it in the world for me.
Leave her gentle stirring
at the window,
set going by first
light, one thumb dug
into the pillow and the motions that follow
of her arm, the palm of her hand. Leave this eyelid of hers
in the world for me. Leave it for me slightly parted
in the soft light from behind the curtain. And leave me too that middle finger
of hers, which battles with a strand of rebellious hair. And
that amazing movement that runs from her back and accompanies her to the tips
of a ring finger, and a pinky. And please leave her hair
gathered up for so many years,
to this day, with a ribbon.
And leave the gold, if possible,
leave this ray of splendor
that has been falling thousands of years in
the same one-thousandth of a second. Between the two mounds of her breasts.
Once and for all. Leave me
everything, beautiful. Fasten
everything into the light.
Like this presence of hers now.
In the pure morning.

MORNING PRAYER


Don’t take it out of the world.
Leave it in the world for me.
Leave her gentle stirring
at the window,
set going by first
light, one thumb dug
into the pillow and the motions that follow
of her arm, the palm of her hand. Leave this eyelid of hers
in the world for me. Leave it for me slightly parted
in the soft light from behind the curtain. And leave me too that middle finger
of hers, which battles with a strand of rebellious hair. And
that amazing movement that runs from her back and accompanies her to the tips
of a ring finger, and a pinky. And please leave her hair
gathered up for so many years,
to this day, with a ribbon.
And leave the gold, if possible,
leave this ray of splendor
that has been falling thousands of years in
the same one-thousandth of a second. Between the two mounds of her breasts.
Once and for all. Leave me
everything, beautiful. Fasten
everything into the light.
Like this presence of hers now.
In the pure morning.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère