Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Miriam Van hee

CITY MUSEUM

hesitantly we follow the charted glass route
we immerse ourselves in a city map,
identifying places we know so well

we can conjure them up at night clear as daylight
there it is, between the post office and the
worn out park, where that willow used to stand

that  had to be chopped down, and there is
the playground, the swimming pool, longing
seizes us, and we shudder as we feel our way

along the dark side of the streets here now,
in our makeshift plastic shoes,
there’s a house along a railway line where we

didn’t fall ill but we grew older,
we stopped floating, searching
for connections, and there on the corner

in front of the bookshop, that’s where we’d often
wait for the tram, and in that waiting came the snow,
covering everything, us too

STADSMUSEUM

STADSMUSEUM

wij volgen onwennig een glazen parcours
wij buigen ons over een stadsplattegrond
we brengen er plekken in thuis, die ons

’s nachts als daglicht voor ogen staan
daar is het, tussen het postkantoor en het
gehavende parkje, daar stond die wilg

die moest omgehakt worden, daar is
de speeltuin, het zwembad, verlangen
bevangt ons, en huiver, zoals wij hier nu

in ons tijdelijk schoeisel van plastic
de donkere kanten van de straten aftasten,
een huis aan de spoorweg waarin wij

niet ziek zijn geworden maar ouder,
het zweven gestopt is, het zoeken
naar een verband, en daar op de hoek, 

voor de boekhandelaar, daar wachtten
wij vaak op de tram, en in dat wachten
het sneeuwen begon, over alles en ons
Close

CITY MUSEUM

hesitantly we follow the charted glass route
we immerse ourselves in a city map,
identifying places we know so well

we can conjure them up at night clear as daylight
there it is, between the post office and the
worn out park, where that willow used to stand

that  had to be chopped down, and there is
the playground, the swimming pool, longing
seizes us, and we shudder as we feel our way

along the dark side of the streets here now,
in our makeshift plastic shoes,
there’s a house along a railway line where we

didn’t fall ill but we grew older,
we stopped floating, searching
for connections, and there on the corner

in front of the bookshop, that’s where we’d often
wait for the tram, and in that waiting came the snow,
covering everything, us too

CITY MUSEUM

hesitantly we follow the charted glass route
we immerse ourselves in a city map,
identifying places we know so well

we can conjure them up at night clear as daylight
there it is, between the post office and the
worn out park, where that willow used to stand

that  had to be chopped down, and there is
the playground, the swimming pool, longing
seizes us, and we shudder as we feel our way

along the dark side of the streets here now,
in our makeshift plastic shoes,
there’s a house along a railway line where we

didn’t fall ill but we grew older,
we stopped floating, searching
for connections, and there on the corner

in front of the bookshop, that’s where we’d often
wait for the tram, and in that waiting came the snow,
covering everything, us too
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Hendrik Muller fonds
Lira fonds
J.E. Jurriaanse
Literature Translation Institute of Korea
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère