Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Esther Jansma

Mercy

The sea is gentle with sounds
and so long as in the village square the son
lays his head on the block,
indoors the mother lights the candles
on his coffin, lays the table,

watery light seeks the corpse-pale skin
of the sea at the village\'s edge, the mouth
fills with departure, the head
feels itself falling, the axe does not fall.

De zee is zacht van geluiden

De zee is zacht van geluiden
en zolang op het dorpsplein de zoon
zijn hoofd op het hakblok legt,
de moeder binnen op zijn doodskist
kaarsen aansteekt, tafel dekt,

zoekt waterig licht de lijkbleke
waterhuid van zee aan de rand
van het dorp, vult de mond zich
met afscheid, voelt het hoofd
zich vallen, valt de bijl niet.
Close

Mercy

The sea is gentle with sounds
and so long as in the village square the son
lays his head on the block,
indoors the mother lights the candles
on his coffin, lays the table,

watery light seeks the corpse-pale skin
of the sea at the village\'s edge, the mouth
fills with departure, the head
feels itself falling, the axe does not fall.

Mercy

The sea is gentle with sounds
and so long as in the village square the son
lays his head on the block,
indoors the mother lights the candles
on his coffin, lays the table,

watery light seeks the corpse-pale skin
of the sea at the village\'s edge, the mouth
fills with departure, the head
feels itself falling, the axe does not fall.
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