Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Mark Boog

THE EVENING DRAWS NEAR

The evening draws near; I lay myself out.
Solace is sought in preservative wine
and much is found. The same as dregs

I descend to the bottom of the glass,
where I sleep restlessly.
Unwanted sediment is mine.

The windows, tender holes;
the fall, well-nigh the same as jumping; and so thirst,
the insatiable, which taunts and comforts us, remains.

DE AVOND NADERT

DE AVOND NADERT

De avond nadert; ik leg mij af.
In de verduurzamende wijn wordt troost gezocht
en veel gevonden. Droesemgelijk

daal ik af naar de bodem van het glas,
waar ik onrustig slaap.
Ongewenst bezinksel is mijn deel.

De vensters, zachte gaten;
de val, die nagenoeg de sprong gelijk is; en de dorst,
de onlesbare, die ons tart en geruststelt, die blijft.
Close

THE EVENING DRAWS NEAR

The evening draws near; I lay myself out.
Solace is sought in preservative wine
and much is found. The same as dregs

I descend to the bottom of the glass,
where I sleep restlessly.
Unwanted sediment is mine.

The windows, tender holes;
the fall, well-nigh the same as jumping; and so thirst,
the insatiable, which taunts and comforts us, remains.

THE EVENING DRAWS NEAR

The evening draws near; I lay myself out.
Solace is sought in preservative wine
and much is found. The same as dregs

I descend to the bottom of the glass,
where I sleep restlessly.
Unwanted sediment is mine.

The windows, tender holes;
the fall, well-nigh the same as jumping; and so thirst,
the insatiable, which taunts and comforts us, remains.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Hendrik Muller fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère