Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Lieke Marsman

Evaporate, condensate

These are strange times, unstable times.
Seasons change, but never turn
into holidays.

You coexist with other bodies
that piss, dribble, rant, shit. All the while
a choir in a minor key softly screaming,

Your body is sick, but you will heal, this will fade.
You’ll lie in the grass, stiller, thinner,
receive visitors looking fashionably underweight.
Cancer has no calendar, so be patient.

Evaporate, condensate. Even disasters
are composites of events, not products of fate.
You just have to distil, then ablate:
You will heal. This will fade.

We verdampen

We verdampen

Het zijn rare tijden, jaargetijden
veranderen en vermijden een confrontatie
met vakantie.

Je pruttelt wat mee met lichamen
die druipen, ijlen, kwijlen, schijten.
Een koor in mineur, dat zachtjes brult:

Je lijf is ziek, maar je wordt beter, het zal slijten.
Je zult stiller in het gras liggen en slanker,
uitgemergeld chic bezoek ontvangen. Maar kanker
heeft geen kalender, dus heb geduld.

We verdampen tot we condenseren
en ook rampen zijn gemaakt van feiten.
Je hoeft ze er alleen maar uit te destilleren:
Je wordt weer beter. Het zal slijten.
Close

Evaporate, condensate

These are strange times, unstable times.
Seasons change, but never turn
into holidays.

You coexist with other bodies
that piss, dribble, rant, shit. All the while
a choir in a minor key softly screaming,

Your body is sick, but you will heal, this will fade.
You’ll lie in the grass, stiller, thinner,
receive visitors looking fashionably underweight.
Cancer has no calendar, so be patient.

Evaporate, condensate. Even disasters
are composites of events, not products of fate.
You just have to distil, then ablate:
You will heal. This will fade.

Evaporate, condensate

These are strange times, unstable times.
Seasons change, but never turn
into holidays.

You coexist with other bodies
that piss, dribble, rant, shit. All the while
a choir in a minor key softly screaming,

Your body is sick, but you will heal, this will fade.
You’ll lie in the grass, stiller, thinner,
receive visitors looking fashionably underweight.
Cancer has no calendar, so be patient.

Evaporate, condensate. Even disasters
are composites of events, not products of fate.
You just have to distil, then ablate:
You will heal. This will fade.
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