Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Eva Gerlach

DAUGHTER

The dead are resurrected in my child
as yet their heads hang heavy, and by touch
they seek within my arms for a firm hold,
and as I sing for them they grow more loud;
hunger impels them to my breast, they find 

support there for their hands, and recognition
makes their pupils small now they their blind
eyes as in photos lift towards me.

DOCHTER

DOCHTER

De doden zijn in mijn kind opgestaan.
Hun hoofden hangen nog slap, op de tast
zoeken zij in mijn armen een houvast,
zij worden luid terwijl ik voor hen zing;
honger beweegt hen naar mijn borst, zij vinden 

steunpunten voor hun handen, herkenning
maakt hun pupillen klein nu zij de blinde
ogen van de foto's naar mij opslaan.

Close

DAUGHTER

The dead are resurrected in my child
as yet their heads hang heavy, and by touch
they seek within my arms for a firm hold,
and as I sing for them they grow more loud;
hunger impels them to my breast, they find 

support there for their hands, and recognition
makes their pupils small now they their blind
eyes as in photos lift towards me.

DAUGHTER

The dead are resurrected in my child
as yet their heads hang heavy, and by touch
they seek within my arms for a firm hold,
and as I sing for them they grow more loud;
hunger impels them to my breast, they find 

support there for their hands, and recognition
makes their pupils small now they their blind
eyes as in photos lift towards me.

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
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