Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Hannah van Binsbergen

Last night my cover was blown on the children’s news

Last night my cover was blown on the children’s news:
Hannah van Binsbergen will never be actualized.
She will fade until she is a ghost, the narrowest tyre in the world,
unfindable in the catalogue.
Close your eyes long enough not to fall
in the library
it is a forest of cacti, don’t go back there,
take your beloved’s hand elsewhere
the playground is no place for pleasure.
The desire to change into a book shocks the young viewers
their parents reassure them: don’t worry, it will never happen.
Let my vision be free!
My vision is innocent!
The library is too shallow a grave
you’d go crazy from all the voices you heard there
and the shadows behind the shelves
are the result of trying to live normally for 3,000 years
in the hereafter – don’t go back there.
For everyone the book they deserve:
my friends have become encyclopaedias
and the odd boiling manual
they are undead and hungry but ultimately
just something you can pick up
and put down next to your bed, turn off the light
for a night that serves the day
in which everyone lives and belongs to the world.
I will never become real.

Gisteravond op het jeugdjournaal viel ik door de mand

Gisteravond op het jeugdjournaal viel ik door de mand:
Hannah van Binsbergen zal nooit geactualiseerd worden.
Ze zal verbleken tot een spook, de smalste band ter wereld
onvindbaar in de catalogus.
Sluit je ogen lang genoeg om niet te vallen
in de bibliotheek
het is een woud van cactussen, ga er niet meer terug,
pak ergens anders de hand van je geliefde
op het schoolplein is geen plaats voor genot.
De wens om in een boek te veranderen schokte de jonge kijkers
hun ouders stelden hen gerust: het zou gelukkig nooit gebeuren.
Laat mijn visioen vrij!
Mijn visioen is onschuldig!
De bibliotheek is een te ondiep graf
je wordt gek van de stemmen die je er hoort
en de schimmen achter de kasten
zijn het resultaat van 3000 jaar normaal proberen te leven
in het hiernamaals – ga er niet meer heen.
Voor iedereen het boek dat hij verdient:
mijn vrienden zijn encyclopedieën geworden
en een enkel kokend handboek
ze zijn ondood en hongerig maar uiteindelijk
gewoon iets wat je op kunt pakken
en neerleggen naast je bed, het licht uitdoen
voor een nacht in dienst van de dag
waarin iedereen leeft en tot de wereld behoort.
Ik zal nooit werkelijk worden.
Close

Last night my cover was blown on the children’s news

Last night my cover was blown on the children’s news:
Hannah van Binsbergen will never be actualized.
She will fade until she is a ghost, the narrowest tyre in the world,
unfindable in the catalogue.
Close your eyes long enough not to fall
in the library
it is a forest of cacti, don’t go back there,
take your beloved’s hand elsewhere
the playground is no place for pleasure.
The desire to change into a book shocks the young viewers
their parents reassure them: don’t worry, it will never happen.
Let my vision be free!
My vision is innocent!
The library is too shallow a grave
you’d go crazy from all the voices you heard there
and the shadows behind the shelves
are the result of trying to live normally for 3,000 years
in the hereafter – don’t go back there.
For everyone the book they deserve:
my friends have become encyclopaedias
and the odd boiling manual
they are undead and hungry but ultimately
just something you can pick up
and put down next to your bed, turn off the light
for a night that serves the day
in which everyone lives and belongs to the world.
I will never become real.

Last night my cover was blown on the children’s news

Last night my cover was blown on the children’s news:
Hannah van Binsbergen will never be actualized.
She will fade until she is a ghost, the narrowest tyre in the world,
unfindable in the catalogue.
Close your eyes long enough not to fall
in the library
it is a forest of cacti, don’t go back there,
take your beloved’s hand elsewhere
the playground is no place for pleasure.
The desire to change into a book shocks the young viewers
their parents reassure them: don’t worry, it will never happen.
Let my vision be free!
My vision is innocent!
The library is too shallow a grave
you’d go crazy from all the voices you heard there
and the shadows behind the shelves
are the result of trying to live normally for 3,000 years
in the hereafter – don’t go back there.
For everyone the book they deserve:
my friends have become encyclopaedias
and the odd boiling manual
they are undead and hungry but ultimately
just something you can pick up
and put down next to your bed, turn off the light
for a night that serves the day
in which everyone lives and belongs to the world.
I will never become real.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère