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Poem

Elke de Rijcke

FROM THE ROAD TO VÄSTERÅS 18

as to my orientation in time I became more and more lost.

fastened to a stretch where the past, present and future
accumulated and transpired.

I had attained my maximum level of integration many years ago.

presently I withdrew drifting.

in space I was soaked to the bone and floundered in the mire.

as to the question of my future, I was incapable of response.

it wasn't clear to me whether the engine of a desired life had shorted,
or whether I should hope an unidentified surge
was building.

I was sick of myself as an organizing instance
and backbone of my days.

my shoulders were not wide enough to bear the weight
as my disorientation and my mutiny were deeper than
I guessed.

DE LA ROUTE JUSQU\'À VÄSTERÅS 18

DE LA ROUTE JUSQU\'À VÄSTERÅS 18

quant à mon orientation dans le temps j'étais de plus en plus perdue.

boutonnée à une section où le passé, le présent et le futur
s'accumulaient et transpiraient.

j'avais atteint la hauteur maximale de mon ancrage il y a bien des années.

à présent je rétrécissais à la dérive.

dans l'espace j'étais trempée jusqu'aux os et je peinais dans la bourbe.

quant à la question de mon devenir, j'étais incapable de répondre.

il ne m'était pas clair si le propulseur d'une vie désirée s'était arrêté,
ou s'il fallait espérer qu'un élan non encore identifié
se développerait.

j'en avais marre de moi comme instance organisatrice
et colonne vertébrale de mes journées.

mes épaules n'étaient pas suffisamment larges pour porter la charge
car ma désorientation et ma mutinerie étaient plus profondes que je ne l'estimais.
Close

FROM THE ROAD TO VÄSTERÅS 18

as to my orientation in time I became more and more lost.

fastened to a stretch where the past, present and future
accumulated and transpired.

I had attained my maximum level of integration many years ago.

presently I withdrew drifting.

in space I was soaked to the bone and floundered in the mire.

as to the question of my future, I was incapable of response.

it wasn't clear to me whether the engine of a desired life had shorted,
or whether I should hope an unidentified surge
was building.

I was sick of myself as an organizing instance
and backbone of my days.

my shoulders were not wide enough to bear the weight
as my disorientation and my mutiny were deeper than
I guessed.

FROM THE ROAD TO VÄSTERÅS 18

as to my orientation in time I became more and more lost.

fastened to a stretch where the past, present and future
accumulated and transpired.

I had attained my maximum level of integration many years ago.

presently I withdrew drifting.

in space I was soaked to the bone and floundered in the mire.

as to the question of my future, I was incapable of response.

it wasn't clear to me whether the engine of a desired life had shorted,
or whether I should hope an unidentified surge
was building.

I was sick of myself as an organizing instance
and backbone of my days.

my shoulders were not wide enough to bear the weight
as my disorientation and my mutiny were deeper than
I guessed.
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