Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Mark Boog

CONCERNING TENDER-HEARTEDNESS

Our tender-hearted companions we left behind,
looking into their soon to moisten eyes one more time;

we took off, utilising fully and in all seriousness
the wings growing onto us. Below

the clink of crockery and the sliding
of chairs and table, no longer moving us –

no longer moving you, for I fell back.
My wings, unfamiliar to me, withered.

Voluminous layers of salt in this soil: the mine
must be used. I, in tender-hearted company, delve,

cut, seeking happiness in deficiency.

BETREFFENDE WEEKHARTIGHEID

BETREFFENDE WEEKHARTIGHEID

Onze weekhartige metgezellen lieten wij achter,
hun snel vochtige ogen nog eenmaal inkijkend;

wij stegen op, de vleugels die ons aangroeiden
ten volle en in diepe ernst benuttend. Onder ons

het gerinkel van serviesgoed en het schuiven
van stoelen en tafel, niet langer ons beroerend –

niet langer jou beroerend, want ik viel terug.
Mijn mij wezensvreemde vleugels verdorden.

Omvangrijke zoutlagen in deze grond: de mijn
dient gebruikt. Ik, in weekhartig gezelschap, delf,

hak, in de onvolkomenheid het geluk zoekend.
Close

CONCERNING TENDER-HEARTEDNESS

Our tender-hearted companions we left behind,
looking into their soon to moisten eyes one more time;

we took off, utilising fully and in all seriousness
the wings growing onto us. Below

the clink of crockery and the sliding
of chairs and table, no longer moving us –

no longer moving you, for I fell back.
My wings, unfamiliar to me, withered.

Voluminous layers of salt in this soil: the mine
must be used. I, in tender-hearted company, delve,

cut, seeking happiness in deficiency.

CONCERNING TENDER-HEARTEDNESS

Our tender-hearted companions we left behind,
looking into their soon to moisten eyes one more time;

we took off, utilising fully and in all seriousness
the wings growing onto us. Below

the clink of crockery and the sliding
of chairs and table, no longer moving us –

no longer moving you, for I fell back.
My wings, unfamiliar to me, withered.

Voluminous layers of salt in this soil: the mine
must be used. I, in tender-hearted company, delve,

cut, seeking happiness in deficiency.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère