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Poem

Leonard Nolens

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN

I’ve brought you with me to this halfway-house.
The loft’s abuzz with voices like a hive.
Hatred and love help swell the honeycombs
With the poems to be consumed elsewhere.

Thus I portray, poison and antidote, transformed,
What I’ve purloined from you, a little world
Paid for with my capture of your mystery.
Only you gain freedom here in black and white.

So read me. Read me in full or not at all.
This was my wish, I’d not do this alone,
I wanted to speak, here, on everyone’s behalf.
Am I a bottle at sea, a sermon in the dark?

I was still young, I dreamt that I appeared here
Like one walking singing over yonder hills.
I dreamt I wrote like a dead man speaks
With all the gift of tongues his absence brings.

Lectori salutem!

Lectori salutem!

Ik heb je meegenomen naar dit doorgangshuis.
De zolder gonst van stemmen als een bijenkorf.
Haat en liefde doen er honingraten zwellen
Van het vers dat elders wil worden gegeten.

Zo geef ik, gif en tegengif, veranderd weer
Wat ik van jou gestolen heb, een klein heelal
Met mijn gevang van jouw verborgenheid betaald.
Enkel jij krijgt hier de vrijheid zwart op wit.

Dus lees me. Lees me helemaal of lees me niet.
Ik wou dit toch, ik zou dit toch niet zo alleen.
Ik wou toch spreken, hier, in naam van iedereen.
Ben ik een fles in zee, een les in duisternis?

Ik was nog jong, ik droomde dat ik hier verscheen
Als een die ginder in de heuvels loopt te zingen.
Ik droomde dat ik schreef zoals een dode spreekt
Met heel de pinkstertong van zijn afwezigheid.
Close

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN

I’ve brought you with me to this halfway-house.
The loft’s abuzz with voices like a hive.
Hatred and love help swell the honeycombs
With the poems to be consumed elsewhere.

Thus I portray, poison and antidote, transformed,
What I’ve purloined from you, a little world
Paid for with my capture of your mystery.
Only you gain freedom here in black and white.

So read me. Read me in full or not at all.
This was my wish, I’d not do this alone,
I wanted to speak, here, on everyone’s behalf.
Am I a bottle at sea, a sermon in the dark?

I was still young, I dreamt that I appeared here
Like one walking singing over yonder hills.
I dreamt I wrote like a dead man speaks
With all the gift of tongues his absence brings.

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN

I’ve brought you with me to this halfway-house.
The loft’s abuzz with voices like a hive.
Hatred and love help swell the honeycombs
With the poems to be consumed elsewhere.

Thus I portray, poison and antidote, transformed,
What I’ve purloined from you, a little world
Paid for with my capture of your mystery.
Only you gain freedom here in black and white.

So read me. Read me in full or not at all.
This was my wish, I’d not do this alone,
I wanted to speak, here, on everyone’s behalf.
Am I a bottle at sea, a sermon in the dark?

I was still young, I dreamt that I appeared here
Like one walking singing over yonder hills.
I dreamt I wrote like a dead man speaks
With all the gift of tongues his absence brings.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère