Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Monica Aasprong

I give you tears that sprout

I give you tears that sprout

you shall use them

when someone forces themselves inside

then you shall let that crying sprout

let the crying dance on the very edge

like the bullets in a fountain


then I give you tears that sob

they come over you

when you least expect them

(and are difficult to stop)



I give you a brother to hate

(and you get the violence as a part of siblinghood)



there’s no room for you in the picture, I say

you must walk yourself, on your legs



I drag around the blood of all feet

that is why,

says the child


no, I say

that can’t be right

it must be something else

a smaller

burden



perhaps a shattered hate

you can try to heal that



I see the child walk

with a bunch

on its back


the book lies open


you have stolen my bonds,

I scream at the child

they are my bonds you have there

not yours

I give you tears that sprout

jeg gir deg en gråt som spruter

den skal du bruke

når noen trenger seg inn

da skal du la denne gråten sprute ut

la tårene danse ytterst

som kulene i en fontene


så gir jeg deg en hikstegråt

den kommer over deg

når du minst venter det

(og er vanskelig å stoppe)



jeg gir deg en bror å hate

(og volden får du som en del av søskenskapet)



det er ikke plass til deg i bildet, sier jeg

du må gå selv, på dine bein



jeg sleper rundt på alle føtters blod

det er derfor,

sier barnet


nei, sier jeg

det kan ikke stemme

det må være noe annet

mindre 

du bærer



kanskje et brustent hat

det kan du prøve å hele



jeg ser barnet gå

med en klase

på ryggen


boka ligger åpen


du har stjålet mine bånd,

skriker jeg til barnet

det er min hender du har der

ikke dine
Close

I give you tears that sprout

I give you tears that sprout

you shall use them

when someone forces themselves inside

then you shall let that crying sprout

let the crying dance on the very edge

like the bullets in a fountain


then I give you tears that sob

they come over you

when you least expect them

(and are difficult to stop)



I give you a brother to hate

(and you get the violence as a part of siblinghood)



there’s no room for you in the picture, I say

you must walk yourself, on your legs



I drag around the blood of all feet

that is why,

says the child


no, I say

that can’t be right

it must be something else

a smaller

burden



perhaps a shattered hate

you can try to heal that



I see the child walk

with a bunch

on its back


the book lies open


you have stolen my bonds,

I scream at the child

they are my bonds you have there

not yours

I give you tears that sprout

I give you tears that sprout

you shall use them

when someone forces themselves inside

then you shall let that crying sprout

let the crying dance on the very edge

like the bullets in a fountain


then I give you tears that sob

they come over you

when you least expect them

(and are difficult to stop)



I give you a brother to hate

(and you get the violence as a part of siblinghood)



there’s no room for you in the picture, I say

you must walk yourself, on your legs



I drag around the blood of all feet

that is why,

says the child


no, I say

that can’t be right

it must be something else

a smaller

burden



perhaps a shattered hate

you can try to heal that



I see the child walk

with a bunch

on its back


the book lies open


you have stolen my bonds,

I scream at the child

they are my bonds you have there

not yours
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
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