Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Serge Delaive

Jam bread

The electronic barometer predicts a round sun
this morning that I gathered up like every morning
under my quilt where I buried my dream
I went down to the kitchen in the grimy light
then I ran a black coffee
cup in hand I smoked a cigarette in the yard
the cobalt blue sky faded from the East
while the moon and Venus witnessed in silence
the world’s pain to which they are indifferent
at the table I fixed up a jam tartine
which impassively I wolfed down in three 
I woke the children one by one
the seed of the day was scattered
there was nothing left but to garner it
beneath the great staring eye of a surprised sun.

Pain confiture

Pain confiture

Le baromètre électronique prévoit un soleil rond
ce matin que j’ai soulevé comme tous les matins
dessous ma couette où j’avais enseveli mon rêve
je suis descendu dans la cuisine sous la lumière crasseuse
puis j’ai fait couler un café noir
tasse en main j’ai fumé une cigarette dans la cour
le ciel bleu cobalt se délavait par l’orient
pendant que la lune et vénus témoignaient en silence
dans la douleur du monde qui les ignore
à table je me suis préparé une tartine de confiture
que j’ai avalée sans envie en trois bouchées
j’ai réveillé les enfants tour à tour
la semence du jour était jetée
ne me restait plus qu’à la cueillir
sous l’œil grand ouvert d’un soleil étonné.
Close

Jam bread

The electronic barometer predicts a round sun
this morning that I gathered up like every morning
under my quilt where I buried my dream
I went down to the kitchen in the grimy light
then I ran a black coffee
cup in hand I smoked a cigarette in the yard
the cobalt blue sky faded from the East
while the moon and Venus witnessed in silence
the world’s pain to which they are indifferent
at the table I fixed up a jam tartine
which impassively I wolfed down in three 
I woke the children one by one
the seed of the day was scattered
there was nothing left but to garner it
beneath the great staring eye of a surprised sun.

Jam bread

The electronic barometer predicts a round sun
this morning that I gathered up like every morning
under my quilt where I buried my dream
I went down to the kitchen in the grimy light
then I ran a black coffee
cup in hand I smoked a cigarette in the yard
the cobalt blue sky faded from the East
while the moon and Venus witnessed in silence
the world’s pain to which they are indifferent
at the table I fixed up a jam tartine
which impassively I wolfed down in three 
I woke the children one by one
the seed of the day was scattered
there was nothing left but to garner it
beneath the great staring eye of a surprised sun.
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