Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Emmanuel Moses

MR. NOBODY’S ALLERGIES

Mr. Nobody, no longer young, develops an allergy to tuna;
he discovers this by accident
in an Italian restaurant in the historic city center.
His face turns red, his eyes go bloodshot
his table-mates push their chairs back, terrified,
say a doctor should be called immediately
but Mr. Nobody categorically refuses all aid
and staggers toward the men’s room
where he plunges his head into the toilet bowl.
He has barely recovered from his first attack
when a second occurs,
even worse,
which keeps him flat on his back for several days.
Despite a meticulous reconstitution of his liquid and solid intake,
he arrives at no convincing explanation,
and Mr. Nobody wonders if it wasn’t the environment which had provoked his illness this time.
He suspects the pigeons in the square where, when the weather permits,
he goes to sit and read the evening newspaper,
the neighbor’s cat who mysteriously prefers his terrace crowded with worm-eaten boxes and rusty metal chairs
to her mistress’s, planted with flowers
or it could be the dying cypress tree behind the Augustine monastery,
last vestige of a departed park.
Then, during a cruise on the Nile on the luxury yacht Ferdinand de Lesseps
where there were no animals, and not the smallest shrub,
and he ate only bread and rice due to a case of dysentery he’d contracted the very afternoon of his arrival
an attack twice as virulent as the one he’d suffered in the restaurant
made him suddenly understand the multifaceted nature of his ailment:
the sources of his pathology were numerous;
and the most surprising among them,
discovered empirically on the upper deck
on the occasion of an evening of Viennese waltzes
was women. Not a certain type of woman,
no, women in general.
One must add that men irritated him almost equally,
and there, too, of whatever sort.
Only children, babies especially, and the very old
– there are two or three hunched in their wheelchairs warming themselves in the desert sun –
seem to lack these elements that so violently reject
his body.

DE ALLERGIEËN VAN MENEER NIEMENDAL

Op gevorderde leeftijd wordt meneer Niemendal allergisch voor tonijn.
Hij ontdekt het bij toeval
in een Italiaans restaurant in de historische binnenstad.
Zijn gezicht brandt, zijn ogen zijn bloeddoorlopen
de gasten naast hem schuiven verschrikt hun stoel achteruit,
eisen dat er een dokter wordt bijgehaald,
maar meneer Niemendal weigert categorisch alle hulp
en begeeft zich wankelend naar het toilet
waar hij ineenzakt met zijn kop voorover in de closetpot.
Hij is nog maar net bekomen van zijn eerste aanval
of daar doet zich al een tweede voor,
nog zwaarder,
waar hij dagen achtereen door wordt geveld.
Ondanks een nauwgezette reconstructie van wat hij zoal gegeten en gedronken heeft,
vindt hij geen enkele overtuigende verklaring,
zodat meneer Niemendal zich afvraagt of ditmaal de omgeving niet de oorzaak is van zijn malaise.
Hij verdenkt de duiven van het plantsoentje, waar hij, als het weer het toelaat,
zijn avondkrant gaat zitten lezen,
de kat van de buurvrouw, die om duistere redenen de voorkeur geeft aan zijn balkon, volgestouwd met vermolmde kisten en verroeste stoelen
boven het bloemrijke balkon van zijn bazin
of het zou de schuld kunnen zijn van de kwijnende cypres achter de muur van het Augustinessenklooster,
het laatste overblijfsel van een verdwenen park.
Maar dan, tijdens een cruise op de Nijl aan boord van het luxejacht Ferdinand-de- Lesseps,
waar ieder dier, het minste struikje ver te zoeken is,
en hij zich uitsluitend voedt met brood en rijst vanwege een op de middag van zijn aankomst opgelopen dysenterie,
doet een aanval, tweemaal zo zwaar als die waaraan hij in het restaurant ten prooi viel,
hem plotseling beseffen dat er aan zijn reactie legio factoren ten grondslag liggen:
de ziekteverwekkers zijn velerlei;
en de verrassendste ervan,
op empirische wijze aan het licht gebracht op het promenadedek
tijdens de avond van de ‘Weense walsen’,
is onmiskenbaar vrouwen. Niet een welbepaald soort vrouwen, nee, vrouwen in het algemeen.
Waarbij moet worden opgemerkt dat mannen hem haast net zo hevig irriteren
en ook ditmaal, om het even welke.
Alleen kinderen, vooral baby’s, en hoogbejaarden
– er zitten er een stuk of drie zich te warmen aan de woestijnzon, ineengeschrompeld in hun rolstoel –
lijken verstoken van het soort elementen waar zijn gestel zo’n heftige afweerreactie tegen
     vertoont.

LES ALLERGIES DE MONSIEUR NÉANT

À un âge avancé monsieur Néant devient allergique au thon ;
il le découvre par hasard
dans un restaurant italien du centre historique de la ville.
Son visage s’enflamme, ses yeux sont injectés de sang
ses voisins de table reculent leur siège, effrayés,
réclament l’intervention d’un médecin,
mais monsieur Néant refuse catégoriquement tout secours
et se dirige en titubant vers les toilettes
avant de s’effondrer la tête à l’intérieur de la cuvette.
Il est à peine rétabli de sa première crise
qu’en survient une seconde,
plus forte encore,
qui le terrasse pendant plusieurs jours.
Malgré une reconstitution minutieuse de ses aliment liquides
comme solides,
ne parvenant à aucune conclusion probante,
monsieur Néant se demande si ce n’est pas l’environnement
qui a provoqué cette fois son malaise.
Il soupçonne les pigeons du square où, quand le temps le
permet,
il descend lire le journal du soir,
le chat de sa voisine qui, mystérieusement, préfère son balcon
encombré de caisses vermoulues et de chaises mangées de
rouille
à celui, fleuri, de sa maîtresse
à moins qu’il ne s’agisse du cyprès moribond derrière le mur
du couvent des Augustines,
dernier vestige d’un parc disparu.
Puis lors d’une croisière sur le Nil à bord du yacht de luxe
Ferdinand-de-Lesseps,
en l’absence de tout animal, du moindre arbrisseau,
se nourrissant exclusivement de pain et de riz en raison d’une
dysenterie contractée l’après-midi de son arrivée,
l’attaque, deux fois aussi forte que celle dont il a été victime au
restaurant,
lui fait soudain comprendre la nature multifactorielle de sa
réaction :
les agents sont nombreux ;
et le plus surprenant d’entre eux,
découvert de manière empirique sur le pont supérieur
à l’occasion de la soirée « Valses de Vienne »,
est certainement les femmes. Pas un certain type de femmes,
non, les femmes en général.
Il faut préciser que les hommes l’irritent presque autant
et là encore, quels qu’ils soient.
Seuls les enfants, les bébés surtout, et les grands vieillards
— il y en a deux ou trois qui se réchauffent au soleil du désert
recroquevillés dans leur fauteuil roulant —
semblent dépourvus de ces éléments que rejette si violemment
son organisme.
Close

MR. NOBODY’S ALLERGIES

Mr. Nobody, no longer young, develops an allergy to tuna;
he discovers this by accident
in an Italian restaurant in the historic city center.
His face turns red, his eyes go bloodshot
his table-mates push their chairs back, terrified,
say a doctor should be called immediately
but Mr. Nobody categorically refuses all aid
and staggers toward the men’s room
where he plunges his head into the toilet bowl.
He has barely recovered from his first attack
when a second occurs,
even worse,
which keeps him flat on his back for several days.
Despite a meticulous reconstitution of his liquid and solid intake,
he arrives at no convincing explanation,
and Mr. Nobody wonders if it wasn’t the environment which had provoked his illness this time.
He suspects the pigeons in the square where, when the weather permits,
he goes to sit and read the evening newspaper,
the neighbor’s cat who mysteriously prefers his terrace crowded with worm-eaten boxes and rusty metal chairs
to her mistress’s, planted with flowers
or it could be the dying cypress tree behind the Augustine monastery,
last vestige of a departed park.
Then, during a cruise on the Nile on the luxury yacht Ferdinand de Lesseps
where there were no animals, and not the smallest shrub,
and he ate only bread and rice due to a case of dysentery he’d contracted the very afternoon of his arrival
an attack twice as virulent as the one he’d suffered in the restaurant
made him suddenly understand the multifaceted nature of his ailment:
the sources of his pathology were numerous;
and the most surprising among them,
discovered empirically on the upper deck
on the occasion of an evening of Viennese waltzes
was women. Not a certain type of woman,
no, women in general.
One must add that men irritated him almost equally,
and there, too, of whatever sort.
Only children, babies especially, and the very old
– there are two or three hunched in their wheelchairs warming themselves in the desert sun –
seem to lack these elements that so violently reject
his body.

MR. NOBODY’S ALLERGIES

Mr. Nobody, no longer young, develops an allergy to tuna;
he discovers this by accident
in an Italian restaurant in the historic city center.
His face turns red, his eyes go bloodshot
his table-mates push their chairs back, terrified,
say a doctor should be called immediately
but Mr. Nobody categorically refuses all aid
and staggers toward the men’s room
where he plunges his head into the toilet bowl.
He has barely recovered from his first attack
when a second occurs,
even worse,
which keeps him flat on his back for several days.
Despite a meticulous reconstitution of his liquid and solid intake,
he arrives at no convincing explanation,
and Mr. Nobody wonders if it wasn’t the environment which had provoked his illness this time.
He suspects the pigeons in the square where, when the weather permits,
he goes to sit and read the evening newspaper,
the neighbor’s cat who mysteriously prefers his terrace crowded with worm-eaten boxes and rusty metal chairs
to her mistress’s, planted with flowers
or it could be the dying cypress tree behind the Augustine monastery,
last vestige of a departed park.
Then, during a cruise on the Nile on the luxury yacht Ferdinand de Lesseps
where there were no animals, and not the smallest shrub,
and he ate only bread and rice due to a case of dysentery he’d contracted the very afternoon of his arrival
an attack twice as virulent as the one he’d suffered in the restaurant
made him suddenly understand the multifaceted nature of his ailment:
the sources of his pathology were numerous;
and the most surprising among them,
discovered empirically on the upper deck
on the occasion of an evening of Viennese waltzes
was women. Not a certain type of woman,
no, women in general.
One must add that men irritated him almost equally,
and there, too, of whatever sort.
Only children, babies especially, and the very old
– there are two or three hunched in their wheelchairs warming themselves in the desert sun –
seem to lack these elements that so violently reject
his body.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère