Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Tsead Bruinja

GRASS THAT’S ALREADY LAUGHING

each word I lay down before you
on the ground and at your feet
is a word too many

the cold grass beneath
fresh mown just wet
by the moon
it lies a day

now waiting for the sun
a hand covering its mouth
a hand hiding the joke

waiting for how

fresh mown grass
                         laughs

looks at me
sits up
                         laughs laughs laughs

each word
          true word laughs
laughs
          in delight

like a bed you have to
make

laughs
          fresh
mown and smooth

fresh mown and glad
the grass laughs          with a hand
                    over its mouth

and each word I later apparently gently
lay down before you on the new grass at your precious feet
is a word too many that laughs and will laugh

GERS DAT ALFÊST LAKET

GERS DAT ALFÊST LAKET

elk wurd dat ik by dy dellis
oan `e grûn en foar dyn fuotten
is in wurd tefolle

it kâlde gers derûnder
krekt meand krekt wiet
fan de moanne
it leit in dei

no wachtsje op de sinne
en hân foar de mûle
en hân foar de grap

wachtsje op hoe’t

krekt meand gers
                         laket

sjocht my oan
kom oerein
                         laket laket laket

elk wurd
          wier wurd laket
laket
          bliid

as in bêd dat noch net op
makke is

laket
          krekt
meand en glêd

krekt meand en bliid
laket it gers          mei de hân
                    op de mûle

en elk wurd dat ik skylk skynber sêft
by dy dellis op it nije gers en foar dyn djoere fuotten
is in wurd tefolle dat laket en laitsje sil
Close

GRASS THAT’S ALREADY LAUGHING

each word I lay down before you
on the ground and at your feet
is a word too many

the cold grass beneath
fresh mown just wet
by the moon
it lies a day

now waiting for the sun
a hand covering its mouth
a hand hiding the joke

waiting for how

fresh mown grass
                         laughs

looks at me
sits up
                         laughs laughs laughs

each word
          true word laughs
laughs
          in delight

like a bed you have to
make

laughs
          fresh
mown and smooth

fresh mown and glad
the grass laughs          with a hand
                    over its mouth

and each word I later apparently gently
lay down before you on the new grass at your precious feet
is a word too many that laughs and will laugh

GRASS THAT’S ALREADY LAUGHING

each word I lay down before you
on the ground and at your feet
is a word too many

the cold grass beneath
fresh mown just wet
by the moon
it lies a day

now waiting for the sun
a hand covering its mouth
a hand hiding the joke

waiting for how

fresh mown grass
                         laughs

looks at me
sits up
                         laughs laughs laughs

each word
          true word laughs
laughs
          in delight

like a bed you have to
make

laughs
          fresh
mown and smooth

fresh mown and glad
the grass laughs          with a hand
                    over its mouth

and each word I later apparently gently
lay down before you on the new grass at your precious feet
is a word too many that laughs and will laugh
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