Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Miriam Van hee

SYCAMORES AT NÎMES STATION

their skin was beginning to wrinkle
they were growing old and would die
as we would but without fear
as if they were in on something
and we were not

already our parting was approaching
storm cloud, derailed trains
uncertainty there always was
certainty one might achieve
but how, how
to become like the trees

I felt that I would write
(because everything was always
as it could not remain)
of how we sat here
on a bench beneath sycamores
the sun shining, a dog barking
and chasing pigeons

PLATANEN BIJ HET STATION IN NÎMES

PLATANEN BIJ HET STATION IN NÎMES

hun huid begon te rimpelen
ze werden oud en zouden doodgaan  
net als wij maar zonder angst  
alsof zij ergens weet van hadden  
en wij niet

het afscheid kwam al dichterbij  
noodweer, ontspoorde treinen  
onzekerheid was er altijd  
zekerheid kon je winnen  
maar hoe, hoe

kon je worden als de bomen
ik voelde dat ik schrijven zou
(omdat alles altijd was
zoals het niet kon blijven)
hoe wij hier zaten
op een bank onder platanen
de zon scheen, een hond ging blaffend  
achter de duiven aan
Close

SYCAMORES AT NÎMES STATION

their skin was beginning to wrinkle
they were growing old and would die
as we would but without fear
as if they were in on something
and we were not

already our parting was approaching
storm cloud, derailed trains
uncertainty there always was
certainty one might achieve
but how, how
to become like the trees

I felt that I would write
(because everything was always
as it could not remain)
of how we sat here
on a bench beneath sycamores
the sun shining, a dog barking
and chasing pigeons

SYCAMORES AT NÎMES STATION

their skin was beginning to wrinkle
they were growing old and would die
as we would but without fear
as if they were in on something
and we were not

already our parting was approaching
storm cloud, derailed trains
uncertainty there always was
certainty one might achieve
but how, how
to become like the trees

I felt that I would write
(because everything was always
as it could not remain)
of how we sat here
on a bench beneath sycamores
the sun shining, a dog barking
and chasing pigeons
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