Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Jordi Doce

THEN

When the world became the world
the light shone like always
upon an indifferent clock,
the air was full of beginnings
and a thousand times in a thousand different streets
someone tripped on a stone
and this stone opened their eyes;
it was the moment we all waited for
to make the same decisions,
to again kiss the same ground,
to say the goodbyes of the day before;
and that beloved everyday face
that pretended to listen
or invited a distracted caress
once again pulled away too soon.
Beyond the windows the darkness grew,
a seagull rummaged in the trash
and the children played, almost blindly,
ignoring their mother’s shouts.
It was an ordinary day under the skies,
with its background noise in our veins
and the night’s dark soot erasing the surroundings.
He who saved a coin in his pocket
was not richer in the morning.
Nothing happened that could be remembered,
none of us realized
when the world became the world.

ENTONCES

ENTONCES

Cuando el mundo se convirtió en el mundo
la luz brillaba como de costumbre
sobre un reloj indiferente,
el aire estaba lleno de comienzos
y mil veces en mil calles distintas
alguien se tropezaba en una piedra
y esa piedra le abría los ojos;
fue la ocasión que todos esperábamos
para tomar las mismas decisiones,
besar de nuevo el mismo suelo,
decir los hasta luego de anteayer;
y el rostro amado y rutinario
que fingía escuchar
o brindaba una mano distraída
volvió a apartarse antes de tiempo.
Detrás de las ventanas crecía la penumbra,
una gaviota hurgaba en la basura
y los niños jugaban casi a ciegas
ignorando los gritos de sus madres.
Era un día cualquiera bajo el cielo,
con su ruido de fondo en nuestras venas
y el hollín de la noche borrando cercanías.
Quien guardó una moneda en su bolsillo
no fue más rico a la mañana.
Nada ocurrió que pueda recordarse,
ninguno de nosotros se dio cuenta
cuando el mundo se convirtió en el mundo.
Close

THEN

When the world became the world
the light shone like always
upon an indifferent clock,
the air was full of beginnings
and a thousand times in a thousand different streets
someone tripped on a stone
and this stone opened their eyes;
it was the moment we all waited for
to make the same decisions,
to again kiss the same ground,
to say the goodbyes of the day before;
and that beloved everyday face
that pretended to listen
or invited a distracted caress
once again pulled away too soon.
Beyond the windows the darkness grew,
a seagull rummaged in the trash
and the children played, almost blindly,
ignoring their mother’s shouts.
It was an ordinary day under the skies,
with its background noise in our veins
and the night’s dark soot erasing the surroundings.
He who saved a coin in his pocket
was not richer in the morning.
Nothing happened that could be remembered,
none of us realized
when the world became the world.

THEN

When the world became the world
the light shone like always
upon an indifferent clock,
the air was full of beginnings
and a thousand times in a thousand different streets
someone tripped on a stone
and this stone opened their eyes;
it was the moment we all waited for
to make the same decisions,
to again kiss the same ground,
to say the goodbyes of the day before;
and that beloved everyday face
that pretended to listen
or invited a distracted caress
once again pulled away too soon.
Beyond the windows the darkness grew,
a seagull rummaged in the trash
and the children played, almost blindly,
ignoring their mother’s shouts.
It was an ordinary day under the skies,
with its background noise in our veins
and the night’s dark soot erasing the surroundings.
He who saved a coin in his pocket
was not richer in the morning.
Nothing happened that could be remembered,
none of us realized
when the world became the world.
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