Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Hannah van Binsbergen

From the shore that I’ve made

From the shore that I’ve made
from burning office buildings
I sing to you, strangers,
uneasy in my element
while the night captures the land, and I
can change into a church owl at any moment.
In the Netherlands an owl can also be a terrorist
if he has targeted the right sort of people.
But all animals will mutate gruesomely
and tear us into pieces, on this beach
on which we have humiliated them
in this sea in which we have poisoned them.
A tail is enough for a fox,
a person rams his face into a piano.
The life that was my great love
I left it behind on a quay wall
I folded a boat from my passport
and continued on my way.
In the Netherlands an owl can also be prime minister
provided he knows the right sort of people.
Hoo-hoo! Tomorrow I’ll quit my job dramatically
I don’t need this stupid shit in my life.
With what should I fill up my days?
No one values my sickly face
I want to love men but I’m afraid
that they will murder me.
How should I fill my days now?
I can’t receive guests until I know who I am
the doorbell goes off, and I can’t get my dress on
but why not?
Follow the path I’ve cleared for you
the flames will not harm you.
Julia in a walled orchard
blows you a mischievous kiss
the ladder falls over, help her up
she really needs someone like you.
Take her out to eat, get her drunk
and teach her that wrath and hurt pride
are jewelry for women.
Repeat this process around fifty times,
garnish her with roots and parsley
and you’ll see that nothing will be left of her.
The only good girls are dead girls.
The most beautiful girls are pale like a shroud
and silent like a grave.
I let my life, which was my great love
harden into a statue
in which my intentions will become invisible
and bury my face in my hands.

Vanaf de kust die ik gemaakt heb

Vanaf de kust die ik gemaakt heb
van brandende kantoren
zing ik tot jullie, vreemdelingen
slecht op mijn gemak
terwijl de nacht het land verovert en ik
elk moment kan veranderen in een kerkuil.
In Nederland kan ook een uil een terrorist zijn
als hij het op de juist mensen heeft gemunt.
Maar alle dieren zullen gruwelijk muteren
en ons aan stukken scheuren op dit strand
waarop we hen vernederd hebben
in deze zee waarin we hen hebben vergiftigd.
Een vos heeft genoeg aan zijn staart
een mens ramt zijn gezicht in een piano.
Het leven dat mijn grote liefde was
liet ik achter op een landwal
ik vouwde een boot van mijn paspoort
en vervolgde mijn weg.
In Nederland kan ook een uil minister worden
mits hij de juiste mensen kent.
Oehoe! Ik neem morgen dramatisch ontslag van mijn werk
ik heb deze domme shit niet nodig in mijn leven.
Waar moet ik mijn dagen mee vullen?
Niemand stelt prijs op mijn zieke gezicht
ik wil van mannen houden maar ik ben bang
dat ze me zullen vermoorden.
Hoe moet ík nou mijn dagen vullen?
Ik kan geen gasten ontvangen tot ik weet wie ik ben
de deurbel gaat en ik krijg mijn jurk niet dicht
maar waarom niet?
Volg het pad dat ik voor je heb vrijgemaakt
de vlammen zullen je niet schaden
Julia in een ommuurde boomgaard
werpt je een schalks kushandje toe
de ladder valt om, help haar omhoog
ze heeft iemand nodig zoals jij.
Neem haar mee uit eten, voer haar dronken
en leer haar dat wrok en gekwetste trots
een sieraad voor de vrouw zijn.
Herhaal dit proces een keer of vijftig
garneer haar met wortel en peterselie
en je zult zien dat er niets van haar overblijft.
De enige goede meisjes zijn dode meisjes.
De mooiste meisjes zijn bleek als een lijkwade
en zwijgen als het graf.
Ik laat mijn leven, dat mijn grote liefde was
verharden tot een standbeeld
waarin mijn intenties onzichtbaar worden
en begraaf mijn gezicht in mijn handen.
Close

From the shore that I’ve made

From the shore that I’ve made
from burning office buildings
I sing to you, strangers,
uneasy in my element
while the night captures the land, and I
can change into a church owl at any moment.
In the Netherlands an owl can also be a terrorist
if he has targeted the right sort of people.
But all animals will mutate gruesomely
and tear us into pieces, on this beach
on which we have humiliated them
in this sea in which we have poisoned them.
A tail is enough for a fox,
a person rams his face into a piano.
The life that was my great love
I left it behind on a quay wall
I folded a boat from my passport
and continued on my way.
In the Netherlands an owl can also be prime minister
provided he knows the right sort of people.
Hoo-hoo! Tomorrow I’ll quit my job dramatically
I don’t need this stupid shit in my life.
With what should I fill up my days?
No one values my sickly face
I want to love men but I’m afraid
that they will murder me.
How should I fill my days now?
I can’t receive guests until I know who I am
the doorbell goes off, and I can’t get my dress on
but why not?
Follow the path I’ve cleared for you
the flames will not harm you.
Julia in a walled orchard
blows you a mischievous kiss
the ladder falls over, help her up
she really needs someone like you.
Take her out to eat, get her drunk
and teach her that wrath and hurt pride
are jewelry for women.
Repeat this process around fifty times,
garnish her with roots and parsley
and you’ll see that nothing will be left of her.
The only good girls are dead girls.
The most beautiful girls are pale like a shroud
and silent like a grave.
I let my life, which was my great love
harden into a statue
in which my intentions will become invisible
and bury my face in my hands.

From the shore that I’ve made

From the shore that I’ve made
from burning office buildings
I sing to you, strangers,
uneasy in my element
while the night captures the land, and I
can change into a church owl at any moment.
In the Netherlands an owl can also be a terrorist
if he has targeted the right sort of people.
But all animals will mutate gruesomely
and tear us into pieces, on this beach
on which we have humiliated them
in this sea in which we have poisoned them.
A tail is enough for a fox,
a person rams his face into a piano.
The life that was my great love
I left it behind on a quay wall
I folded a boat from my passport
and continued on my way.
In the Netherlands an owl can also be prime minister
provided he knows the right sort of people.
Hoo-hoo! Tomorrow I’ll quit my job dramatically
I don’t need this stupid shit in my life.
With what should I fill up my days?
No one values my sickly face
I want to love men but I’m afraid
that they will murder me.
How should I fill my days now?
I can’t receive guests until I know who I am
the doorbell goes off, and I can’t get my dress on
but why not?
Follow the path I’ve cleared for you
the flames will not harm you.
Julia in a walled orchard
blows you a mischievous kiss
the ladder falls over, help her up
she really needs someone like you.
Take her out to eat, get her drunk
and teach her that wrath and hurt pride
are jewelry for women.
Repeat this process around fifty times,
garnish her with roots and parsley
and you’ll see that nothing will be left of her.
The only good girls are dead girls.
The most beautiful girls are pale like a shroud
and silent like a grave.
I let my life, which was my great love
harden into a statue
in which my intentions will become invisible
and bury my face in my hands.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère