Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Maurice Gilliams

SOURCES OF INSOMNIA I

She carried the lamp behind the water lilies.
The midnight dawn gnaws through
the high chamber where Maria sleeps,
as I long for water and for lilies.

I lie beside her. She rests with me. And none
of us are in this world jointly,
for nothing is here for elsewhere joined
where no desire tears one and the other asunder.

The wall becomes mirror of the army of stars.
The silence swells with fish. In the algae
grate the saline crystals of old sores.

Will I remain then in the watery grave
while the phantom ship sails on forever?
– But when Maria sighs, I take her hand.

BRONNEN DER SLAPELOOSHEID I

BRONNEN DER SLAPELOOSHEID I

Zij droeg de lamp achter de waterlissen.
De dageraad van middernacht knaagt door
het hoog vertrek waarin Maria slaapt,
terwijl ik snak naar water en naar lissen.

Ik lig bij haar. Zij rust bij mij. En geen
van beiden zijn wij in de wereld samen,
want niets is hier want élders samen
waar geen verlangen de een van de ander scheidt.

De muur wordt spiegel van het sterrenheir.
De stilte zwelt van vissen. In de algen
knerpen de zoutkristallen van oud zeer.

Verblijf ik dan voortaan in ’t zeemansgraf
terwijl het spookschip onverpoosd blijft zeilen?
Maar als Maria zucht, vat ik haar hand.
Close

SOURCES OF INSOMNIA I

She carried the lamp behind the water lilies.
The midnight dawn gnaws through
the high chamber where Maria sleeps,
as I long for water and for lilies.

I lie beside her. She rests with me. And none
of us are in this world jointly,
for nothing is here for elsewhere joined
where no desire tears one and the other asunder.

The wall becomes mirror of the army of stars.
The silence swells with fish. In the algae
grate the saline crystals of old sores.

Will I remain then in the watery grave
while the phantom ship sails on forever?
– But when Maria sighs, I take her hand.

SOURCES OF INSOMNIA I

She carried the lamp behind the water lilies.
The midnight dawn gnaws through
the high chamber where Maria sleeps,
as I long for water and for lilies.

I lie beside her. She rests with me. And none
of us are in this world jointly,
for nothing is here for elsewhere joined
where no desire tears one and the other asunder.

The wall becomes mirror of the army of stars.
The silence swells with fish. In the algae
grate the saline crystals of old sores.

Will I remain then in the watery grave
while the phantom ship sails on forever?
– But when Maria sighs, I take her hand.
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