Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Ricardo Domeneck

In which the poet celebrates his twenty-five-year-old lover

Wars
have outlasted your
years.
Congratulations on your success
today
in exceeding the life
expectancy
of a giraffe or bat,
cow,
boa constrictor,
or owl.
Around the world, penguins
and pigs,
conceived at the same time as you, are dying.
Saturn
has not circled the sun even
once
since you were a fertilized egg.
Stalker
who guides me along the thousand trails
to the Zone,
another winter begins to crawl,
I bury
my face in your hairless chest.
If I could,
I'd sign a contract
with Lem
or the Strugatsky brothers,
screenwriters
for our days and future nights;
for the soundtrack,
Diamanda Galás bellows
and bleats,
caws and purrs, we fornicate.
I celebrate
the mind beneath your hair,
the penis,
attached to your body, erect.
Somewhere,
a pig, your contemporary,
reaches
the zenith of his rotund
existence,
I wonder, exhausted in sweat, if lovers,
eyelashes
at last united, count sheep
before
sleep, euphoric and pregnant.

Tekst waarin de dichter zijn
vijfentwintigjarige minnaar viert

Er waren
oorlogen die langer duurden
dan jij.
Ik wens je geluk
vandaag
want je overtrof met succes de levens-
verwachting
van een giraf of een vleermuis,
oude
koe of wurgslang,
uil.
Pinguïns, overal ter wereld,
en varkens,
tegelijk met jou verwekt, gaan al dood.
Saturnus
heeft, sinds zijn ei is gesloten,
de zon
niet één enkele keer omcirkeld.
Stalker
die me over duizend paadjes leidt naar
de Zone,
gaat nog een andere winter op sluipjacht,
ik verberg
mijn gezicht op je gladde borst.
Als het
mogelijk was, tekende ik een contract
met Lem
of met de gebroeders Strugatsky,
de scenaristen
van onze toekomstige dagen en nachten;
door klank-
band Diamanda Galás die loeit
en mekkert,
krast en snort, laten we neuken.
Ik vier
je geest onder je haren,
in erectie,
als aanhangsel van je lichaam, je penis.
Ergens
bereikt een varken, jouw tijd-
genoot,
het toppunt van zijn rondbuikige bestaan,
en ik vraag,
uitgeput en zwetend, of de minnaars,
nu hun wimpers
eindelijk verenigd zijn, schaapjes tellen
voor
ze inslapen, euforisch en drachtig.
 
(Berlijn, 17 oktober 2010)

Texto em que o poeta celebra
o amante de vinte e cinco anos

Houve
guerras mais duradouras
que você.
Parabenizo-o pelo sucesso
hoje
de sobreviver a expectativa
de vida
de uma girafa ou morcego,
vaca
velha ou jiboia-constritora,
coruja.
Penguins, ao redor do mundo,
e porcos,
com você concebidos, morrem.
Saturno,
desde que se fechou seu óvulo,
não
circundou o Sol uma vez única.
Stalker
que me guia pelas mil veredas
à Zona,
engatinha ainda outro inverno,
escondo
minha cara no seu peito glabro.
Fosse
possível, assinaria um contrato
com Lem
ou com os irmãos Strugatsky,
roteiristas
de nossos dias, noites futuras;
por trilha
sonora, Diamanda Galás muge
e bale,
crocita e ronrona, forniquemos.
Celebro
a mente sob os seus cabelos,
ereto,
anexado ao seu corpo, o pênis.
Algures,
um porco, seu contemporâneo,
chega
ao cimo de seu existir rotundo,
pergunto,
exausto em suor, se amantes,
de cílios
afinal unidos, contam ovelhas
antes
do sono, eufóricas e prenhas.
Close

In which the poet celebrates his twenty-five-year-old lover

Wars
have outlasted your
years.
Congratulations on your success
today
in exceeding the life
expectancy
of a giraffe or bat,
cow,
boa constrictor,
or owl.
Around the world, penguins
and pigs,
conceived at the same time as you, are dying.
Saturn
has not circled the sun even
once
since you were a fertilized egg.
Stalker
who guides me along the thousand trails
to the Zone,
another winter begins to crawl,
I bury
my face in your hairless chest.
If I could,
I'd sign a contract
with Lem
or the Strugatsky brothers,
screenwriters
for our days and future nights;
for the soundtrack,
Diamanda Galás bellows
and bleats,
caws and purrs, we fornicate.
I celebrate
the mind beneath your hair,
the penis,
attached to your body, erect.
Somewhere,
a pig, your contemporary,
reaches
the zenith of his rotund
existence,
I wonder, exhausted in sweat, if lovers,
eyelashes
at last united, count sheep
before
sleep, euphoric and pregnant.

In which the poet celebrates his twenty-five-year-old lover

Wars
have outlasted your
years.
Congratulations on your success
today
in exceeding the life
expectancy
of a giraffe or bat,
cow,
boa constrictor,
or owl.
Around the world, penguins
and pigs,
conceived at the same time as you, are dying.
Saturn
has not circled the sun even
once
since you were a fertilized egg.
Stalker
who guides me along the thousand trails
to the Zone,
another winter begins to crawl,
I bury
my face in your hairless chest.
If I could,
I'd sign a contract
with Lem
or the Strugatsky brothers,
screenwriters
for our days and future nights;
for the soundtrack,
Diamanda Galás bellows
and bleats,
caws and purrs, we fornicate.
I celebrate
the mind beneath your hair,
the penis,
attached to your body, erect.
Somewhere,
a pig, your contemporary,
reaches
the zenith of his rotund
existence,
I wonder, exhausted in sweat, if lovers,
eyelashes
at last united, count sheep
before
sleep, euphoric and pregnant.

Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Hendrik Muller fonds
Lira fonds
J.E. Jurriaanse
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère