Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Vaan Nguyen

Word Mound

That city—
A dank barrel of sludge
A mound of words
And now the despair

You smell cigarettes on me
and guess which beer I bet
from the white foam
on my chin
fixed on this mountain of a man
who hasn’t worn off yet.
I wanted more from you, you know
that I wanted from you so much more.

On Friday
We’ll lie down on the beach and I’ll draw you out with a pipe.

תל מילים

תל מילים

הָעִיר הַזּוֹ
חָבִית טְחוּבָה שֶׁל רֶפֶשׁ נִזְלָג
תֵּל מִלִּים
וְכָעֵת הַיֵּאוּשׁ
אַתָּה מֵרִיחַ אֶצְלִי אֶת הַסִּיגַרְיוֹת
אֶת הַבִּירָה בֶּטַח תְּזַהֶה
עַל פִּי הַקֶּצֶף הַלָּבָן
שֶׁעַל סַנְטֵרִי
בוֹהָה בְּהַר הָאָדָם
הַרְבֵּה זְמַן הוּא לֹא הִתְפּוֹגֵג.
רָצִיתִי מִמְּךָ יוֹתֵר, אַתָּה יוֹדֵעַ
שֶׁרָצִיתִי מִמְּךָ כָּל כָּךְ יוֹתֵר.

בְּיוֹם שִׁשִּׁי
נִשְׁכַּב עַל הַחוֹף וְאֶשְׁאַב אוֹתְךָ עִם צִנּוֹר
 
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Word Mound

That city—
A dank barrel of sludge
A mound of words
And now the despair

You smell cigarettes on me
and guess which beer I bet
from the white foam
on my chin
fixed on this mountain of a man
who hasn’t worn off yet.
I wanted more from you, you know
that I wanted from you so much more.

On Friday
We’ll lie down on the beach and I’ll draw you out with a pipe.

Word Mound

That city—
A dank barrel of sludge
A mound of words
And now the despair

You smell cigarettes on me
and guess which beer I bet
from the white foam
on my chin
fixed on this mountain of a man
who hasn’t worn off yet.
I wanted more from you, you know
that I wanted from you so much more.

On Friday
We’ll lie down on the beach and I’ll draw you out with a pipe.
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