Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Roni Margulies

THE APOLLO YEARS

We’ve brought 20 kilos of moonstone back.
They’re being analysed in detail still.
Perhaps they’ll find a new element,
perhaps traces of odd and ancient life.

I went, took my steps, returned.
I pass the baton wearily on.
Where they’ll go next, what they’ll find,
I know not, nor care much.

I went, took my steps, returned.
True, I cannot ever forget those years,
that first step off the capsule.
But whenever I think of it these days,

I reach for my bottle of Scotch.
I cannot believe we carried
stones from one world to another.
What was it we were looking for

and why look for it on the moon?

DE APOLLOJAREN

We namen veertig kilo stenen mee terug.
Ze worden nog steeds minutieus onderzocht.
Misschien wordt er nieuwe materie gevonden,
of sporen van vreemd en oud leven.

Ik ben gegaan, zette de eerste stappen, en kwam terug.
Hierna liet ik het aan anderen over.
Waar zij heengaan, wat zij vinden,
interesseert me eerlijk gezegd niet zo.

Ik ben gegaan, zette de eerste stappen, en kwam terug.
Natuurlijk zal ik die jaren nooit vergeten,
toen ik de capsule verliet en die eerste stap zette.
Maar als ik er tegenwoordig aan terugdenk,

grijp ik naar de whisky aan mijn hoofdeind.
Ik kan er met mijn verstand niet bij, dat er stenen
van de ene wereld naar de andere zijn gebracht.
Ik kan maar niet begrijpen, waar we naar zochten

en waarom we op de maan zochten?

APOLLO YILLARI

Yirmi kilo taş getirdik yanımızda.
Baştan aşağı inceleniyorlar hâlâ.
Bilmem, yeni maddeler mi bulunur,
izleri mi garip ve eski bir canlının.

Gittim, adımlarımı attım, geldim.
Bundan sonrası başkalarına kalmış.
Nereye giderler, ne bulurlar seneye,
çok da merak etmiyorum doğrusu.

Gittim, adımlarımı attım, geldim.
Unutmayacağım elbet o yılları,
kapsülden inip attığım o ilk adımı.
Ne zaman düşünsem ama şimdilerde,

başucumdaki viskiye uzanıyor elim.
Anlam veremiyorum bir dünyadan
taş taşımaya bir başka dünyaya.
Anlayamıyorum, neydi aradığımız

ve niye ayda arıyorduk?
Close

THE APOLLO YEARS

We’ve brought 20 kilos of moonstone back.
They’re being analysed in detail still.
Perhaps they’ll find a new element,
perhaps traces of odd and ancient life.

I went, took my steps, returned.
I pass the baton wearily on.
Where they’ll go next, what they’ll find,
I know not, nor care much.

I went, took my steps, returned.
True, I cannot ever forget those years,
that first step off the capsule.
But whenever I think of it these days,

I reach for my bottle of Scotch.
I cannot believe we carried
stones from one world to another.
What was it we were looking for

and why look for it on the moon?

THE APOLLO YEARS

We’ve brought 20 kilos of moonstone back.
They’re being analysed in detail still.
Perhaps they’ll find a new element,
perhaps traces of odd and ancient life.

I went, took my steps, returned.
I pass the baton wearily on.
Where they’ll go next, what they’ll find,
I know not, nor care much.

I went, took my steps, returned.
True, I cannot ever forget those years,
that first step off the capsule.
But whenever I think of it these days,

I reach for my bottle of Scotch.
I cannot believe we carried
stones from one world to another.
What was it we were looking for

and why look for it on the moon?
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