Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Frank Koenegracht

the englishman

For Geeske

You were asleep, dreaming, smiled and said:
‘No I don’t care,’ followed by
a gurgle, a girlish giggle.

This was as clear as anything.
An Englishman was involved, making
certain suggestions and being

accepted. At any rate
it wasn’t me.
I never speak English in your sleep.

We’ll work by trial
and error, I thought, and soon we’ll know more.
So I began to stroke

your breast, as Englishly as possible. And indeed
you started murmuring
softly, moaned,

I could have left it at that.
But I wanted certainty and rubbed
your bum with that same hand

from England.
Now you ran away, you fled laughing
but you fled, you kicked the covers

off your legs. So our friend
from across the sea had gone too far;
that was obvious.

You sighed, turned over to me,
saying my name,
and I decided to let you go on

floating between space and time
but whispered in your ear: ‘We’ll
never meet again.’ For safety’s sake.

de engelsman

de engelsman

Voor Geeske

Je sliep, je droomde, glimlachte en zei:
‘no I don’t care’, gevolgd door
een gekir, een meisjesachtig giechelen.

Dit was zo duidelijk als wat.
Hier was een engelsman in ’t spel
die zekere voorstellen deed waarop

werd ingegaan. In elk geval
was ik het niet.
Ik spreek nooit engels in je slaap.

Proefondervindelijk gaan wij
te werk, dacht ik, dan weten we straks meer
en ik begon je borst

zo engels mogelijk te strelen. En inderdaad
’t geluid ging over in een zacht zingen,
een gekreun, een situatie

die ik zo had kunnen laten.
Maar ik wilde zekerheid en wreef
over je broekje met dezelfde hand

uit Engeland.
Nu rende je weg, je vluchtte lachend
maar je vluchtte, je trappelde

je benen bloot. Dus onze vriend
van overzee was nu te ver gegaan;
dat bleek.

Je zuchtte, draaide je om naar mij
en zei mijn naam daarbij
en ik besloot je nu maar verder

te laten zweven tussen ruimte en tijd
maar fluisterde nog in je oor: ‘We’ll
never meet again.’ Voor alle zekerheid.
Close

the englishman

For Geeske

You were asleep, dreaming, smiled and said:
‘No I don’t care,’ followed by
a gurgle, a girlish giggle.

This was as clear as anything.
An Englishman was involved, making
certain suggestions and being

accepted. At any rate
it wasn’t me.
I never speak English in your sleep.

We’ll work by trial
and error, I thought, and soon we’ll know more.
So I began to stroke

your breast, as Englishly as possible. And indeed
you started murmuring
softly, moaned,

I could have left it at that.
But I wanted certainty and rubbed
your bum with that same hand

from England.
Now you ran away, you fled laughing
but you fled, you kicked the covers

off your legs. So our friend
from across the sea had gone too far;
that was obvious.

You sighed, turned over to me,
saying my name,
and I decided to let you go on

floating between space and time
but whispered in your ear: ‘We’ll
never meet again.’ For safety’s sake.

the englishman

For Geeske

You were asleep, dreaming, smiled and said:
‘No I don’t care,’ followed by
a gurgle, a girlish giggle.

This was as clear as anything.
An Englishman was involved, making
certain suggestions and being

accepted. At any rate
it wasn’t me.
I never speak English in your sleep.

We’ll work by trial
and error, I thought, and soon we’ll know more.
So I began to stroke

your breast, as Englishly as possible. And indeed
you started murmuring
softly, moaned,

I could have left it at that.
But I wanted certainty and rubbed
your bum with that same hand

from England.
Now you ran away, you fled laughing
but you fled, you kicked the covers

off your legs. So our friend
from across the sea had gone too far;
that was obvious.

You sighed, turned over to me,
saying my name,
and I decided to let you go on

floating between space and time
but whispered in your ear: ‘We’ll
never meet again.’ For safety’s sake.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère