Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

K. Satchidanandan

GRANNY

My granny was insane.
As her madness ripened into death,
my uncle, a miser,
kept her in our storeroom
wrapped in straw.

My granny dried up, burst;
her seeds flew out of the window.
The sun came, and the rain;
one seedling grew up into a tree,
whose lusts bore me.

Can I help writing poems
about monkeys with teeth of gold?

GROOTJE

Mijn grootje was gek.
Toen haar gekte rijpte richting dood,
wikkelde mijn oom, vrek die hij was,
haar in stro
en zette haar in onze voorraadkamer.
 
Mijn grootje droogde op, barstte in zaden uiteen,
en ontsnapte uit het raam van de voorraadkamer.
De zon kwam, en de regen,
één zaailing groeide uit tot mijn moeder.
Ook ik ben uit de gekte van de moeder voortgekomen.
 
Hoe zou ik me dan kunnen
onthouden van het schrijven van gedichten
over apen met gouden tanden?

Close

GRANNY

My granny was insane.
As her madness ripened into death,
my uncle, a miser,
kept her in our storeroom
wrapped in straw.

My granny dried up, burst;
her seeds flew out of the window.
The sun came, and the rain;
one seedling grew up into a tree,
whose lusts bore me.

Can I help writing poems
about monkeys with teeth of gold?

GRANNY

My granny was insane.
As her madness ripened into death,
my uncle, a miser,
kept her in our storeroom
wrapped in straw.

My granny dried up, burst;
her seeds flew out of the window.
The sun came, and the rain;
one seedling grew up into a tree,
whose lusts bore me.

Can I help writing poems
about monkeys with teeth of gold?
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