Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Elly de Waard

Crash, breaking surf, blow oh unfathomable

Crash, breaking surf, blow oh unfathomable
wind and smooth out for me the sound of

so many words, so much empty talk that
is lodged in my head, a dictatorship

of tonalities, intonations, shreds of language
spoken by others, enough to drive a person crazy

echoing, all of them, their graffiti
on the walls of my soul, a punishment from

god, a cell on death row, in which I count
the hours I still have to go, in that bare

room and the laughing machine is
always on – oh breaking surf,

waves, wash if possible pound
this beach clean, so that what can remain

will be the white sand receptive again
in which sun or water, shadow-clouds or

a swooping down wind can write
its same always other secret

Ruis, branding, waai o ondoorgrondelijke

Ruis, branding, waai o ondoorgrondelijke
wind en effen voor mij het geluid van

zoveel woorden, zoveel loos gepraat dat
zich in mijn hoofd bevindt, een dictatuur

van timbres, intonaties, flarden taal
van anderen, tot gek makens toe

echoënd, allemaal, hun graffiti
op de muren van mijn ziel, een straf van

god, een dodencel, waarin ik de uren
die ik nog te gaan heb tel, in dat kaal

vertrek en de lachmachine is er
altijd aangezet – o branding,

golven, spoel zo mogelijk met geweld
dit strand schoon, opdat overblijven kan

het witte, weer ontvankelijke zand
waar zon of water, schaduwwolken of

een neersuizende wind zijn eendere
altijd andere geheim in schrijven kan
Close

Crash, breaking surf, blow oh unfathomable

Crash, breaking surf, blow oh unfathomable
wind and smooth out for me the sound of

so many words, so much empty talk that
is lodged in my head, a dictatorship

of tonalities, intonations, shreds of language
spoken by others, enough to drive a person crazy

echoing, all of them, their graffiti
on the walls of my soul, a punishment from

god, a cell on death row, in which I count
the hours I still have to go, in that bare

room and the laughing machine is
always on – oh breaking surf,

waves, wash if possible pound
this beach clean, so that what can remain

will be the white sand receptive again
in which sun or water, shadow-clouds or

a swooping down wind can write
its same always other secret

Crash, breaking surf, blow oh unfathomable

Crash, breaking surf, blow oh unfathomable
wind and smooth out for me the sound of

so many words, so much empty talk that
is lodged in my head, a dictatorship

of tonalities, intonations, shreds of language
spoken by others, enough to drive a person crazy

echoing, all of them, their graffiti
on the walls of my soul, a punishment from

god, a cell on death row, in which I count
the hours I still have to go, in that bare

room and the laughing machine is
always on – oh breaking surf,

waves, wash if possible pound
this beach clean, so that what can remain

will be the white sand receptive again
in which sun or water, shadow-clouds or

a swooping down wind can write
its same always other secret
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
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