Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

André Schmitz

THE PRODIGAL SON

The prodigal son hasn’t returned.
These are the pigs with which
he shared acorns and truffles,
and the girls in whom
he spent his talents,
these are the girls and the pigs
who have come to his father’s
to receive the fatted calf
– to give it to the ingrate
sprawled down there in the depths.

DE VERLOREN ZOON

De verloren zoon kwam niet terug.
Wel de zwijnen waarmee
hij eikels en truffels had gedeeld,
en de meisjes in wie
hij al zijn gaven had verschoten.
Het zijn de meisjes en de zwijnen
die naar de vader toekwamen
en het vette kalf in ontvangst namen
– om het door te geven aan de ondankbare telg
die daarginds zwelgt in het allerlaagste.

L’ENFANT PRODIGUE

L’enfant prodigue n’est pas revenu.
Ce sont les porcs avec lesquels
il a partagé glands et truffes,
et les filles dans lesquelles
il a dépensé ses talents,
ce sont les filles et les porcs
qui sont venus chez le père
recevoir le veau gras
– pour le donner à l’ingrat
vautré là-bas dans le très bas.
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THE PRODIGAL SON

The prodigal son hasn’t returned.
These are the pigs with which
he shared acorns and truffles,
and the girls in whom
he spent his talents,
these are the girls and the pigs
who have come to his father’s
to receive the fatted calf
– to give it to the ingrate
sprawled down there in the depths.

THE PRODIGAL SON

The prodigal son hasn’t returned.
These are the pigs with which
he shared acorns and truffles,
and the girls in whom
he spent his talents,
these are the girls and the pigs
who have come to his father’s
to receive the fatted calf
– to give it to the ingrate
sprawled down there in the depths.
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