Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Tomas Lieske

WEIPOORT

For centuries, the turf cutter has come every night.
 
Cautiously, with boards
tied to his feet, leaning on an immense
spade he squelches across the wet earth. With every step
he sucks his greasy-sounding, flat wooden foot
from the grass.
 
Weipoort night.
Behind the farm the high water surface
in front of the building every flow is lower, even the water
level is raised by the visitor; he forces
the ditch into a course and lets the surface rise.
He lets the water well up. Fish beat
their tails out of their tracksuits and ants
snorkel round with flippers. A curlew
startles in its sleep, flies up and begins
to sing its praises.
 
Night in Weipoort
and behind the hedgerows and banks we hope
the turf cutter will call at our door, raise us
from our lowly dreams and thoughts
will murder our sleep, let the white waifs
dance about the field, control and
particularise our life, lay down the law
on our proud soil to beat the water out.

WEIPOORT

WEIPOORT

Al eeuwen komt iedere nacht de turfsteker.
 
Bedachtzaam, met planken
onder zijn voeten, leunend op een onmetelijke
spa sopt hij over de natte aarde. Met elke pas
zuigt hij met vet geluid zijn platte
houten voet uit het gras.
 
                                                      Weipoortnacht.
Achter de boerderij het hoge wateroppervlak
voor het gebouw stroomt alles lager, zelfs van water
verheft de bezoeker het niveau; hij maant
de sloot tot vaart en laat de spiegel stijgen.
Hij laat het water verrijzen. Vissen slaan
hun staart uit hun trimvest en mieren
snorkelen met zwemvliezen rond. Een grutto
schrikt in zijn slaap, vliegt op en begint zich
aan te prijzen.
 
                                    Nacht in Weipoort
en achter hagen en kanten hopen wij
dat de turfsteker ons aandoet, ons
verheft uit onze lage dromen en gedachten
onze slaap vermoordt, de witte wijven
op de weide dansen laat, ons leven
stuurt, verbijzondert, met kracht
van wet water uit onze trotse
bodem slaat.
Close

WEIPOORT

For centuries, the turf cutter has come every night.
 
Cautiously, with boards
tied to his feet, leaning on an immense
spade he squelches across the wet earth. With every step
he sucks his greasy-sounding, flat wooden foot
from the grass.
 
Weipoort night.
Behind the farm the high water surface
in front of the building every flow is lower, even the water
level is raised by the visitor; he forces
the ditch into a course and lets the surface rise.
He lets the water well up. Fish beat
their tails out of their tracksuits and ants
snorkel round with flippers. A curlew
startles in its sleep, flies up and begins
to sing its praises.
 
Night in Weipoort
and behind the hedgerows and banks we hope
the turf cutter will call at our door, raise us
from our lowly dreams and thoughts
will murder our sleep, let the white waifs
dance about the field, control and
particularise our life, lay down the law
on our proud soil to beat the water out.

WEIPOORT

For centuries, the turf cutter has come every night.
 
Cautiously, with boards
tied to his feet, leaning on an immense
spade he squelches across the wet earth. With every step
he sucks his greasy-sounding, flat wooden foot
from the grass.
 
Weipoort night.
Behind the farm the high water surface
in front of the building every flow is lower, even the water
level is raised by the visitor; he forces
the ditch into a course and lets the surface rise.
He lets the water well up. Fish beat
their tails out of their tracksuits and ants
snorkel round with flippers. A curlew
startles in its sleep, flies up and begins
to sing its praises.
 
Night in Weipoort
and behind the hedgerows and banks we hope
the turf cutter will call at our door, raise us
from our lowly dreams and thoughts
will murder our sleep, let the white waifs
dance about the field, control and
particularise our life, lay down the law
on our proud soil to beat the water out.
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