Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Vaan Nguyen

Jewish Child

Come let us go thus far*
past the farms.
Gedera junction is gridlocked.

This phase is European
but also Bolshevik
because
of the woolen vest and yellow mane
of curls.  Your eyes are blue, Jewish child in Moscow
pretending to be a Tsar
drinking vodka from a crystal glass
sniffing salmon roe on a cracker, name** highlighted in gold
in the canon.

In the apartment, the smell of papers from the secondhand store.
You stick one foot in hesitantly
and then immerse your body in the bathtub
“Light me a cigarette, the pack is on the floor.”
You point and drip,

your face streaming man.

ילד יהודי

ילד יהודי

בּוֹא נִסַּע עַד הֲלוֹם
נִסַּע דֶּרֶךְ הַמּוֹשָׁבוֹת
צֹמֶת גְּדֵרָה פְּקוּקָה.

הַפָזָה הַזּוֹ הִיא אֵירוֹפֵּאִית
אֲבָל הִיא בּוֹלְשֶׁבִיקִית
משִּׁוּם
הַוסְֶט הַצמְַּרִירִי ורְַעְמַת הַתַּלְתַּלִּים
הַזְּהֻבָּה. תְּכֻלּוֹת הֵן עֵינֶיךָ, יֶלֶד יְהוּדִי בְּמוֹסְקְבָה
מִתְחַזֶּה לְצָאר
שׁוֹתֶה ווֹדְקָה מִכּוֹסִית קְרִיסְטָל
מְרַחְרֵחַ בֵּיצֵי סַלְמוֹן עַל קְרֶקֶר, וְהַשֵּׁם מֻדְגָּשׁ זָהֹב
בְּתוֹךְ הַקָּנוֹן.

בַּדִּירָה, רֵיחַ שֶׁל דַּפִּים מֵחֲנוּת יָד שְׁנִיָּה.
אַתָּה מַנִּיחַ אֶת הָרֶגֶל בְּהִסּוּס
וְאָז טוֹבֵל אֶת כָּל גּוּפְךָ בָּאַמְבַּטְיָה
״תַּדְלִיקִי לִי סִיגַרְיָה, הִנֵּה הַחֲפִיסָה עַל הָרִצְפָּה״
מַצְבִּיעַ וְנוֹטֵף,

וּבְפָנֶיךָ הַזּוֹלְגוֹת גֶּבֶר.
 
Close

Jewish Child

Come let us go thus far*
past the farms.
Gedera junction is gridlocked.

This phase is European
but also Bolshevik
because
of the woolen vest and yellow mane
of curls.  Your eyes are blue, Jewish child in Moscow
pretending to be a Tsar
drinking vodka from a crystal glass
sniffing salmon roe on a cracker, name** highlighted in gold
in the canon.

In the apartment, the smell of papers from the secondhand store.
You stick one foot in hesitantly
and then immerse your body in the bathtub
“Light me a cigarette, the pack is on the floor.”
You point and drip,

your face streaming man.

Jewish Child

Come let us go thus far*
past the farms.
Gedera junction is gridlocked.

This phase is European
but also Bolshevik
because
of the woolen vest and yellow mane
of curls.  Your eyes are blue, Jewish child in Moscow
pretending to be a Tsar
drinking vodka from a crystal glass
sniffing salmon roe on a cracker, name** highlighted in gold
in the canon.

In the apartment, the smell of papers from the secondhand store.
You stick one foot in hesitantly
and then immerse your body in the bathtub
“Light me a cigarette, the pack is on the floor.”
You point and drip,

your face streaming man.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère