Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Adonis

HEAVEN ON EARTH

No one knows anything of it, except its name,
as if things exist only in utterance.
Skin devours pulp
and dust is another name for naught.
 
And this is not the worse of man’s wretchedness:
            He descends into the vessel of You and is You.
            and rises as the mist “I am
            at your beck and call, O Lord.
            Your beck and call!”
 
And here you are, Jerusalem, Al-Quds,
skating on the ice of meaning.
The sky houses her djinn and ifrits in you
to guard the oceans of language.
 
 
(Silence)

EEN HEMEL OP AARDE (fragment)

Geen mens weet meer dan de naam
alsof dingen niet bestaan dan in naam
huls verslindt kern
en stof is een andere naam voor verborgen
 
Wat een ellende voor de mens in al deze dingen
hij valt in de fles van jij bent jij
hij klimt op in de rook van tot uw dienst, tot uw dienst
 
Daar ben je, Jeruzalem – el-Qoeds
je glijdt uit in de sneeuw van wat het betekent
jouw hemel kent boze geesten en djinns
die over de oceanen van de taal heersen

من ” سماء على الأرض“


لم يعد أحدٌ يعرف إلا الاسم،
كأنّ الأشياء غير موجودة إلا لفْظاَ.
القشرة تلتهم اللبّ
والغبارُ اسمٌ آخر للغيب.
 
وما أشدّ في هذا كلّه بؤسَ الإنسان:
يَهبط في قارورة الأنْتَ أنتَ،
يَصعد في دخان لَبّيك لبّيك.
 
وها أنتِ، أورشليم – القدسُ،
تزلّجين على ثلْج المعنى
وللسّماء فيكِ جنٌّ وعفاريتُ
يهيمنون على محيطات اللّغة.
 
( كونشيرتو القدس )
Close

HEAVEN ON EARTH

No one knows anything of it, except its name,
as if things exist only in utterance.
Skin devours pulp
and dust is another name for naught.
 
And this is not the worse of man’s wretchedness:
            He descends into the vessel of You and is You.
            and rises as the mist “I am
            at your beck and call, O Lord.
            Your beck and call!”
 
And here you are, Jerusalem, Al-Quds,
skating on the ice of meaning.
The sky houses her djinn and ifrits in you
to guard the oceans of language.
 
 
(Silence)

HEAVEN ON EARTH

No one knows anything of it, except its name,
as if things exist only in utterance.
Skin devours pulp
and dust is another name for naught.
 
And this is not the worse of man’s wretchedness:
            He descends into the vessel of You and is You.
            and rises as the mist “I am
            at your beck and call, O Lord.
            Your beck and call!”
 
And here you are, Jerusalem, Al-Quds,
skating on the ice of meaning.
The sky houses her djinn and ifrits in you
to guard the oceans of language.
 
 
(Silence)
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère