Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Øyvind Rimbereid

THE TREASURE CHAMBER IN BRAGA

Also on the way up the stairs
to Arte Sacra we could hear
             the scream two blocks behind us,
where she sat, her hands on the wheel.
A collision! I thought first,
before I saw the car
                                 parked, perfectly fine
             while she herself was just screaming
and people were stopping. An elderly woman
pulled on the door, shouted, to no avail,
finally putting her arms over the roof
                                 a kind of comfort through the body of the car.
            While we kept walking
into the Portuguese Archbishop’s
treasure chamber, gift collection,
the largest of its kind, collected at random.
Wandered around for a while
in the half-darkness, damp smell, among the objects given as gifts
            or amends. Cloaks
with threads of gold, sceptres of silver,
the coloured tapestries, pictures of saints, the jewellery.
And the lesser gifts, the ashtrays
in porcelain or plastic
                               which could be found there
together with the first cross
put in the earth in Brazil, in the year 1500
            two slender sticks of rusty iron.

DE SCHATKAMER VAN BRAGA

Ook toen we de trappen op liepen 
naar de Arte Sacra hoorden we
het geschreeuw twee blokken terug,
waar ze zat, haar handen aan het stuur.
Een botsing! dacht ik eerst,
voordat ik de auto zag
geparkeerd, in orde
terwijl ze zelf alleen maar schreeuwde
en mensen bleven staan. Een oudere vrouw
trok aan de deur, riep, zonder succes,
legde uiteindelijk haar armen op het dak
als troost door de carrosserie heen.
Terwijl wij verder
de schatkamer, verzameling geschenken,
van de Portugese aartsbisschop in liepen,
de grootste in zijn soort, willekeurig geordend.
We dwaalden een tijdje rond
in het halfduister, vochtige lucht, tussen de objecten gegeven als cadeau
of boete. Mantels
met gouden biezen, scepters van zilver,
de gekleurde tapijten, afbeeldingen van heiligen, sieraden.
En de kleinere geschenken, de asbakken
van porselein of plastic
die je daar vindt
net als het eerste kruis dat
in Brazilië de grond in geslagen werd, in 1500,
twee dunne stelen verroest ijzer.

SKATTKAMMERET I BRAGA

Også på vei opp trappene
til Arte Sacra kunne vi høre
              skriket to kvartaler bak oss,
der hun satt, med hendene om rattet.
En kollisjon! tenkte jeg først,
før jeg så bilen
                               parkert, i orden
mens hun selv bare skrek
og folk stanset opp. Ei eldre kvinne
drog i døra, ropte, til ingen nytte,
la til slutt armene over taket
                             liksom en trøst gjennom karosseriet.
             Mens vi gikk videre
inn i den portugisiske erkebiskopens
skattkammer, gavesamling,
det største i sitt slag, samlet uten orden.
Vandret rundt en stund
i halvmørket, fuktig lukt, blant gjenstandene gitt i gave
            eller i bot. Kapper
med renninger av gull, septre i sølv,
de fargede teppene, helgenbildene, smykkene.
Og de mindre gavene, askebegerene
i porselen eller i plast
                             som fantes der
sammen med det første korset
satt i jord i Brasil, året 1500
            to spinkle stenger i rustent jern.
Close

THE TREASURE CHAMBER IN BRAGA

Also on the way up the stairs
to Arte Sacra we could hear
             the scream two blocks behind us,
where she sat, her hands on the wheel.
A collision! I thought first,
before I saw the car
                                 parked, perfectly fine
             while she herself was just screaming
and people were stopping. An elderly woman
pulled on the door, shouted, to no avail,
finally putting her arms over the roof
                                 a kind of comfort through the body of the car.
            While we kept walking
into the Portuguese Archbishop’s
treasure chamber, gift collection,
the largest of its kind, collected at random.
Wandered around for a while
in the half-darkness, damp smell, among the objects given as gifts
            or amends. Cloaks
with threads of gold, sceptres of silver,
the coloured tapestries, pictures of saints, the jewellery.
And the lesser gifts, the ashtrays
in porcelain or plastic
                               which could be found there
together with the first cross
put in the earth in Brazil, in the year 1500
            two slender sticks of rusty iron.

THE TREASURE CHAMBER IN BRAGA

Also on the way up the stairs
to Arte Sacra we could hear
             the scream two blocks behind us,
where she sat, her hands on the wheel.
A collision! I thought first,
before I saw the car
                                 parked, perfectly fine
             while she herself was just screaming
and people were stopping. An elderly woman
pulled on the door, shouted, to no avail,
finally putting her arms over the roof
                                 a kind of comfort through the body of the car.
            While we kept walking
into the Portuguese Archbishop’s
treasure chamber, gift collection,
the largest of its kind, collected at random.
Wandered around for a while
in the half-darkness, damp smell, among the objects given as gifts
            or amends. Cloaks
with threads of gold, sceptres of silver,
the coloured tapestries, pictures of saints, the jewellery.
And the lesser gifts, the ashtrays
in porcelain or plastic
                               which could be found there
together with the first cross
put in the earth in Brazil, in the year 1500
            two slender sticks of rusty iron.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère