Nadia Mifsud
BOX OF COLOURED PENCILS
you are my cousin, my aunt
you are my brother-in-law, my sister
you are the boy who sat next to me
on the classroom bench
you’re the friend I frolicked around with
in the church square
in public gardens
in the back row of class
when, do you reckon, did we start colouring everything
in red and blue
discarding the rest of the rainbow?
when, do you reckon, will we understand
(will we ever?)
that the ones who silenced you today
might smother me tomorrow
if I dared to stop applauding them
that the ones who spat in your face today
might deface your children tomorrow?
how did we not notice
that while you and I quarreled over
which was the prettier, red or blue,
someone grabbed the rest of the colours
and ran off, taking the box and all?
kleurdoos
je bent m’n neef, m’n tante
je bent m’n zwager, m’n zus
je bent de jongen die naast me zat
in de schoolbank
je bent de vriend met wie ik lol trapte
op het kerkplein
in de parkjes
achterin de klas
wanneer denk je zijn we begonnen
alles rood en blauw te kleuren,
de rest van de regenboog te mijden?
wanneer denk je zullen we begrijpen
(zullen we dat ooit?)
dat wie jou vandaag monddood maakt
mij morgen zal vermorzelen
mocht ik het wagen
niet meer voor ze te klappen
dat wie jou vandaag in je gezicht spuugt
morgen kwaad zal spreken over je kinderen?
waarom merkten we niet
dat terwijl jij en ik bakkeleiden over
welke kleur nou mooier was, rood of blauw,
iemand de rest van de kleurpotloden meegriste
en wegrende, met doos en al?
KAXXA KULURI
int kuġinuwi, ziti int
int ħatni, oħti int
int it-tifel bilqiegħda ħdejja
fuq il-bank tal-iskola
int is-sieħba li paspart magħha
fuq iz-zuntier tal-knisja
fil-ġonna ta' dari
fuq wara tal-klassi
tgħid meta bdejna npinġu kollox
aħmar u blu
u ġennibna l-bqija tal-qawsalla?
tgħid meta se nifhmu
(għad qatt nifhmu?)
li min sikket lilek illum
kapaċi għada jmegħikni
mqar jekk nieqaf inċapċaplu
li min beżaq f'wiċċi llum
kapaċi għada jżeblaħ lil uliedek?
kif ma ndunajniex
li waqt li int u jien konna għadna nitlewmu
fuq liem'hu l-isbaħ, hux l-aħmar jew il-blu,
kien hemm min ħataf il-bqija tal-kuluri
u ħarab bil-kaxxa b'kollox?
From: A Poetry Memorial for Daphne Caruana Galizia
Publisher: PEN International / PEN Malta,
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BOX OF COLOURED PENCILS
you are my cousin, my aunt
you are my brother-in-law, my sister
you are the boy who sat next to me
on the classroom bench
you’re the friend I frolicked around with
in the church square
in public gardens
in the back row of class
when, do you reckon, did we start colouring everything
in red and blue
discarding the rest of the rainbow?
when, do you reckon, will we understand
(will we ever?)
that the ones who silenced you today
might smother me tomorrow
if I dared to stop applauding them
that the ones who spat in your face today
might deface your children tomorrow?
how did we not notice
that while you and I quarreled over
which was the prettier, red or blue,
someone grabbed the rest of the colours
and ran off, taking the box and all?
From: A Poetry Memorial for Daphne Caruana Galizia
BOX OF COLOURED PENCILS
you are my cousin, my aunt
you are my brother-in-law, my sister
you are the boy who sat next to me
on the classroom bench
you’re the friend I frolicked around with
in the church square
in public gardens
in the back row of class
when, do you reckon, did we start colouring everything
in red and blue
discarding the rest of the rainbow?
when, do you reckon, will we understand
(will we ever?)
that the ones who silenced you today
might smother me tomorrow
if I dared to stop applauding them
that the ones who spat in your face today
might deface your children tomorrow?
how did we not notice
that while you and I quarreled over
which was the prettier, red or blue,
someone grabbed the rest of the colours
and ran off, taking the box and all?
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