Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Babs Gons

POLYGLOT

I learned one language after another
the one of the decent clothes
that makes up somewhat for your skin
of the words that are perfectly groomed
that would somewhat seem to forgive you

the language of the head held high and the straight back
and pretending
no one can touch you
the language of who does she think she is
who do I think I am

the language of love me in spite of this body
the language of love me because of this body
of get your fingers out of my hair
only the wind may go through it
get your fingers out of my mouth
I keep my tongue in my chest

the language that separates the mouth from the heart
the heart from the blood
the blood from the bones
filing cabinets of lost narratives
in which you sometimes
come across yourself
in the echo of a distant ancestor
the language that sings your soul back home

the language so naked
it gives you nothing to cover yourself with

but the one I love most is
the language that lays me as bare
as my skin allows

POLYGLOT

POLYGLOT

ik leerde de ene taal na de andere
die van de nette kleren
die iets van je huid compenseren
van de woorden verzorgd tot in de puntjes
die je iets lijken te vergeven

de taal van opgeheven hoofd en rechte rug
en net doen alsof
niemand je kan raken
de taal van wie denkt ze wel niet dat ze is
wie denk ik wel niet dat ik ben

de taal van hou van mij ondanks dit lichaam
de taal van hou van mij dankzij dit lichaam
van haal je vingers uit mijn haar
alleen de wind mag er doorheen
haal je vingers uit mijn mond
ik draag mijn tong in mijn borst

de taal die de mond scheidt van het hart
het hart van het bloed
het bloed van de botten
archiefkasten met verloren verhaallijnen
waarin je soms in de weerklank
van een verre voorouder
jezelf ontmoet
de taal die je ziel terug naar huis zingt

de taal zo kaal
dat ze je niets geeft om je mee te bedekken

maar het liefste is me
de taal die me zo bloot legt
als mijn huid maar toelaat
Close

POLYGLOT

I learned one language after another
the one of the decent clothes
that makes up somewhat for your skin
of the words that are perfectly groomed
that would somewhat seem to forgive you

the language of the head held high and the straight back
and pretending
no one can touch you
the language of who does she think she is
who do I think I am

the language of love me in spite of this body
the language of love me because of this body
of get your fingers out of my hair
only the wind may go through it
get your fingers out of my mouth
I keep my tongue in my chest

the language that separates the mouth from the heart
the heart from the blood
the blood from the bones
filing cabinets of lost narratives
in which you sometimes
come across yourself
in the echo of a distant ancestor
the language that sings your soul back home

the language so naked
it gives you nothing to cover yourself with

but the one I love most is
the language that lays me as bare
as my skin allows

POLYGLOT

I learned one language after another
the one of the decent clothes
that makes up somewhat for your skin
of the words that are perfectly groomed
that would somewhat seem to forgive you

the language of the head held high and the straight back
and pretending
no one can touch you
the language of who does she think she is
who do I think I am

the language of love me in spite of this body
the language of love me because of this body
of get your fingers out of my hair
only the wind may go through it
get your fingers out of my mouth
I keep my tongue in my chest

the language that separates the mouth from the heart
the heart from the blood
the blood from the bones
filing cabinets of lost narratives
in which you sometimes
come across yourself
in the echo of a distant ancestor
the language that sings your soul back home

the language so naked
it gives you nothing to cover yourself with

but the one I love most is
the language that lays me as bare
as my skin allows
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