Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Alfred Schaffer

DAY(DREAM) # 526

This bare space that I crossed with enough ammo for a week.
I was hitched to a truck here
as I roared the first lines of the national anthem.
Only the first lines, for the melody.
I learned to slaughter animals here
the innards in a burlap sack and chucked onto the fire.
Here the game was to beat death.
Cycling, jumping ditches and this was where seven kids
peed over me and I stayed prostrate until I could get up again
here I ran through the garden on a summer’s evening
chasing her – whether she’d giggle, all that low light.
If I don’t watch out, I’ll take one cautious step back                              
and another step and step by step
I step away from myself. Only once I’m far enough away
and can no longer hear myself, I turn around and
begin to run like mad.
How quiet it is today.                                                                                  
As quiet as a forest in winter.                                              
As quiet as a bird, high up in the sky.
As quiet as a sleeping whale. 

DAG(DROOM) # 526

DAG(DROOM) # 526

Deze kale ruimte die ik met munitie voor een week doorkruiste.
Hier werd ik aan een truck gehaakt
terwijl ik luid de eerste regels van het volkslied zong.
Alleen de eerste regels, om de melodie.
Hier leerde ik een dier te slachten
alle ingewanden in een jutezak en dan de fik erin.
Hier was wie slimmer dan de dood dan wie.
Fietsen, slootjespringen en hier plasten zeven kinderen
over mij heen en ik bleef liggen tot ik weer kon staan
hier rende ik een zomeravond door de tuin
achter haar aan – of ze moest lachen, al dat lage licht.
Als ik niet oppas doe ik heel voorzichtig één stap achteruit
en nog een stap en stap voor stap
stap ik bij mij vandaan. Pas als ik ver genoeg ben
en mij niet meer hoor draai ik me om
begin te rennen als een gek.
Wat is het stil vandaag.
Zo stil als een bos in de winter.
Zo stil als een vogel, hoog in de lucht.
Zo stil als een walvis die slaapt. 
Close

DAY(DREAM) # 526

This bare space that I crossed with enough ammo for a week.
I was hitched to a truck here
as I roared the first lines of the national anthem.
Only the first lines, for the melody.
I learned to slaughter animals here
the innards in a burlap sack and chucked onto the fire.
Here the game was to beat death.
Cycling, jumping ditches and this was where seven kids
peed over me and I stayed prostrate until I could get up again
here I ran through the garden on a summer’s evening
chasing her – whether she’d giggle, all that low light.
If I don’t watch out, I’ll take one cautious step back                              
and another step and step by step
I step away from myself. Only once I’m far enough away
and can no longer hear myself, I turn around and
begin to run like mad.
How quiet it is today.                                                                                  
As quiet as a forest in winter.                                              
As quiet as a bird, high up in the sky.
As quiet as a sleeping whale. 

DAY(DREAM) # 526

This bare space that I crossed with enough ammo for a week.
I was hitched to a truck here
as I roared the first lines of the national anthem.
Only the first lines, for the melody.
I learned to slaughter animals here
the innards in a burlap sack and chucked onto the fire.
Here the game was to beat death.
Cycling, jumping ditches and this was where seven kids
peed over me and I stayed prostrate until I could get up again
here I ran through the garden on a summer’s evening
chasing her – whether she’d giggle, all that low light.
If I don’t watch out, I’ll take one cautious step back                              
and another step and step by step
I step away from myself. Only once I’m far enough away
and can no longer hear myself, I turn around and
begin to run like mad.
How quiet it is today.                                                                                  
As quiet as a forest in winter.                                              
As quiet as a bird, high up in the sky.
As quiet as a sleeping whale. 
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère