Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Marije Langelaar

Chair

I was standing by a table and it troubled me I was so alone
when I suddenly heard a knocking sound admittedly
very soft but something was making itself heard.
So subtle it was I had to kneel down, that’s when I found the chair
and I touched the wood as you might touch a tongue, I
laid my finger in a vein, all at once twilight
fell and animals were surrounding us.
Now I was not much larger than a pinpoint
and inwardly drunk the chair transmitted its thoughts, somewhat
technical but followed by the sound of trees rustling
for a moment, for about three seconds I became chair. It was heavenly, heavenly
that wood in my vertebrae! The knocking in my legs, a form of life
without blood or ideas. And standing still for ever. And
uplifted. And always that function and an
inward swaying with its origin in the trees.

Stoel

Stoel

Ik stond naast een tafel en het verontrustte mij dat ik zo
alleen was en opeens hoorde ik het kloppen erg
zachtjes weliswaar maar iets maakte zich kenbaar.
Het was zo subtiel dat ik moest knielen, zo vond ik de
stoel en ik raakte het hout zoals je een tong raakt, ik
legde mijn vinger in een nerf, het begon onmiddellijk te
schemeren en dieren stonden om ons heen.
Inmiddels was ik al niet veel groter dan een speldenpunt
en innerlijk dronken de stoel zond mij zijn gedachten, vrij
technisch maar gevolgd door het ruisen van bomen
voor even, een seconde of drie werd ik stoel. Het was zalig, zalig
dat hout in mijn wervels! De klop in mijn been, een bestaan
zonder bloed of gedachten. En stil te staan eeuwig. En
opgetild. En altijd die functie en een
innerlijk waaien van de bomen afkomstig.
Close

Chair

I was standing by a table and it troubled me I was so alone
when I suddenly heard a knocking sound admittedly
very soft but something was making itself heard.
So subtle it was I had to kneel down, that’s when I found the chair
and I touched the wood as you might touch a tongue, I
laid my finger in a vein, all at once twilight
fell and animals were surrounding us.
Now I was not much larger than a pinpoint
and inwardly drunk the chair transmitted its thoughts, somewhat
technical but followed by the sound of trees rustling
for a moment, for about three seconds I became chair. It was heavenly, heavenly
that wood in my vertebrae! The knocking in my legs, a form of life
without blood or ideas. And standing still for ever. And
uplifted. And always that function and an
inward swaying with its origin in the trees.

Chair

I was standing by a table and it troubled me I was so alone
when I suddenly heard a knocking sound admittedly
very soft but something was making itself heard.
So subtle it was I had to kneel down, that’s when I found the chair
and I touched the wood as you might touch a tongue, I
laid my finger in a vein, all at once twilight
fell and animals were surrounding us.
Now I was not much larger than a pinpoint
and inwardly drunk the chair transmitted its thoughts, somewhat
technical but followed by the sound of trees rustling
for a moment, for about three seconds I became chair. It was heavenly, heavenly
that wood in my vertebrae! The knocking in my legs, a form of life
without blood or ideas. And standing still for ever. And
uplifted. And always that function and an
inward swaying with its origin in the trees.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Hendrik Muller fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère