Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Sasja Janssen

"This area comes shyly"

This area comes shyly
as shyly as a boy who doesn’t know what to do with his blushing
sex in this landscape with the gleaming
white that hovers over it.

Sometimes a social animal appears, a lake
a rock, stacked-up cities, squares in the distance with people
hilly light over the pubic mounds around it all.
But everything is very still, as though under water.

I say very little in these parts too.
I can bet on whether I’ll stay behind here. I can bet what will
leave me here. I bet like a boy who brings us off
on the purling moss. 

Are these my holiday photos? I wear no shy
boy’s seed, have seen no white skies
until someone says the images return, first hesitantly
but soon blazing like a heaven in flames, we see that often.

"Dit gebied komt schuw"

Dit gebied komt schuw
schuw als een jongen die niet weet wat hij met zijn blozende
geslacht aan moet in dit landschap met het glanzende
wit dat er wat boven hangt. 

Soms doemt een groepsdier op, een meer
een rots, steden opgestapeld, pleinen in de verte met mensen
heuvelig licht over de schaamheuvels rondom.
Maar dat alles heel stil, als onder water.

Ook ik zeg nauwelijks iets in deze contreien.
Ik kan gokken of ik hier achterblijf. Ik kan gokken wat mij
hier verlaat. Ik gok als een jongen die ons klaar vrijt
op het murmelende mos.

Zijn dit mijn vakantiefoto’s? Ik draag geen schuw
jongenszaad, geen witte luchten gezien
tot iemand zegt de beelden komen terug, eerst voorzichtig
maar algauw laaiend als een hemel in vlammen, dat zien wij vaak.

Close

"This area comes shyly"

This area comes shyly
as shyly as a boy who doesn’t know what to do with his blushing
sex in this landscape with the gleaming
white that hovers over it.

Sometimes a social animal appears, a lake
a rock, stacked-up cities, squares in the distance with people
hilly light over the pubic mounds around it all.
But everything is very still, as though under water.

I say very little in these parts too.
I can bet on whether I’ll stay behind here. I can bet what will
leave me here. I bet like a boy who brings us off
on the purling moss. 

Are these my holiday photos? I wear no shy
boy’s seed, have seen no white skies
until someone says the images return, first hesitantly
but soon blazing like a heaven in flames, we see that often.

"This area comes shyly"

This area comes shyly
as shyly as a boy who doesn’t know what to do with his blushing
sex in this landscape with the gleaming
white that hovers over it.

Sometimes a social animal appears, a lake
a rock, stacked-up cities, squares in the distance with people
hilly light over the pubic mounds around it all.
But everything is very still, as though under water.

I say very little in these parts too.
I can bet on whether I’ll stay behind here. I can bet what will
leave me here. I bet like a boy who brings us off
on the purling moss. 

Are these my holiday photos? I wear no shy
boy’s seed, have seen no white skies
until someone says the images return, first hesitantly
but soon blazing like a heaven in flames, we see that often.

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