Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Durs Grünbein

VACANCIES

The next day the bay seemed tamed.
Butterflies, correspondents from dry land,
cavorted across the sparkling sea, as if
complicit in the game. Pleased for all of us,
they did an extra lap in honour of the dead,
then disappeared without trace.
 
And there we were: speaking to one
another in signs like divers. We sensed
the ferries approaching from other islands,
engines thrumming in the deep,
the sum of the summer in advance. But still,
 
who will give me recompense for all
those dismal years lost in offices? The day                          
forever starting just as it had ended,
with grey calculations, hopeless vacations. 

VACANTIES

’s Anderendaags lag de baai er getemd bij.
Vlinders, correspondenten van het vasteland,
Buitelden medeplichtig over de frisse zee.
Ze verheugden zich voor ons allemaal, draaiden
Een extra rondje voor de overledenen
En waren spoorloos verdwenen.
 
Kijk aan, we konden ons dus stilzwijgend
Als duikers verstaanbaar maken. We meenden
Veerboten te zien komen van andere eilanden,
Motoren die in de diepte bromden,
De som van de zomer bij voorbaat. Wee,
 
Wie vergoedt me de lichtarme jaren,
Verspild in sombere kantoren? De dag
Begon dan steevast zoals hij geëindigd was,
Met grauwe balansen, uitzichtloze vacatures.

VAKANZEN

Anderntags lag die Bucht wie bezähmt.
Schmetterlinge, Korrespondenten vom Festland,
Tollten komplizenhaft über das frische Meer.
Sie freuten sich für uns alle, drehten
Für die Verstorbenen eine Extrarunde
Und waren spurlos verschwunden.
 
Sieh an, wir konnten uns also stumm
Wie die Taucher verständigen. Wir ahnten
Das Nahen der Fähren von anderen Inseln,
Motoren, die in der Tiefe brummten,
Die Summe der Sommer im Voraus. Weh,
 
Wer ersetzt mir die lichtarmen Jahre,
In den Büroetagen vergeudet? Der Tag
Begann dann immer wie er geendet hatte,
Mit grauen Bilanzen, aussichtslosen Vakanzen.
Close

VACANCIES

The next day the bay seemed tamed.
Butterflies, correspondents from dry land,
cavorted across the sparkling sea, as if
complicit in the game. Pleased for all of us,
they did an extra lap in honour of the dead,
then disappeared without trace.
 
And there we were: speaking to one
another in signs like divers. We sensed
the ferries approaching from other islands,
engines thrumming in the deep,
the sum of the summer in advance. But still,
 
who will give me recompense for all
those dismal years lost in offices? The day                          
forever starting just as it had ended,
with grey calculations, hopeless vacations. 

VACANCIES

The next day the bay seemed tamed.
Butterflies, correspondents from dry land,
cavorted across the sparkling sea, as if
complicit in the game. Pleased for all of us,
they did an extra lap in honour of the dead,
then disappeared without trace.
 
And there we were: speaking to one
another in signs like divers. We sensed
the ferries approaching from other islands,
engines thrumming in the deep,
the sum of the summer in advance. But still,
 
who will give me recompense for all
those dismal years lost in offices? The day                          
forever starting just as it had ended,
with grey calculations, hopeless vacations. 
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère