Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Mustafa Kör

PARALYTIC GRIEF

For days now I’ve been creeping around the house
promising poet who has to repay
an unfertilized pregnancy
 

Immaculate, holy fire, angels
gambled away, even this sort of talk
determines my coquettish urges
 

Brooding on dead poets whose lives
no longer existed once they belonged
do you see the mask separating from your face 

The mines of your childhood, full of promises
pretentious and honest as stomachs hungering
for butterflies, lentil soup and Turkish bread

Even beautiful girls became mothers, flew
from my baroque head, even then a budding
black romantic, there was no sea for

I wanted that school trip to the Ardennes back
I wished I had the courage, I wished I wasn’t
paralytic grief from top to toe

VERLAMD VERDRIET

VERLAMD VERDRIET

Dagen al kruip ik rond in huis
beloftevolle dichter die moet inlossen
van een onbevruchte dracht

Onbevlekt, heilig vuur, verspeelde
engelen, zelfs dat soort praat
dicteert mijn behaagzieke drift

Gebogen over dode dichters wier levens
niet meer was eens ze er toe deden
zie je het masker van je gezicht scheiden 

De mijnen van je kindertijd, vol beloftes
pretentieus en eerlijk als hongerige magen
naar vlinders, linzensoep en Turks brood 

Ook mooie meisjes werden moeders, vluchtten
uit mijn barokke hoofd, reeds toen een zwarte
romanticus in de dop, waar geen zee voor bestond

Ik wilde terug die schooluitstap naar de Ardennen
Ik wilde ik had de moed, ik wilde ik was niet
één en al verlamd verdriet

Close

PARALYTIC GRIEF

For days now I’ve been creeping around the house
promising poet who has to repay
an unfertilized pregnancy
 

Immaculate, holy fire, angels
gambled away, even this sort of talk
determines my coquettish urges
 

Brooding on dead poets whose lives
no longer existed once they belonged
do you see the mask separating from your face 

The mines of your childhood, full of promises
pretentious and honest as stomachs hungering
for butterflies, lentil soup and Turkish bread

Even beautiful girls became mothers, flew
from my baroque head, even then a budding
black romantic, there was no sea for

I wanted that school trip to the Ardennes back
I wished I had the courage, I wished I wasn’t
paralytic grief from top to toe

PARALYTIC GRIEF

For days now I’ve been creeping around the house
promising poet who has to repay
an unfertilized pregnancy
 

Immaculate, holy fire, angels
gambled away, even this sort of talk
determines my coquettish urges
 

Brooding on dead poets whose lives
no longer existed once they belonged
do you see the mask separating from your face 

The mines of your childhood, full of promises
pretentious and honest as stomachs hungering
for butterflies, lentil soup and Turkish bread

Even beautiful girls became mothers, flew
from my baroque head, even then a budding
black romantic, there was no sea for

I wanted that school trip to the Ardennes back
I wished I had the courage, I wished I wasn’t
paralytic grief from top to toe

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