Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Paul Snoek

Why do I melt silver in my poems?

Why do I melt silver in my poems?
Why do I nobly conjure on the vertebrae of beauty?
See, this is the breaking key.

I carry truth in my blood like a complete rage,
pain I enter along the root of the wound,
goodness is purity upon my skin.

And lying in the wide bed of the judges,
I play with light and darkness like with young lions,
until the caressing fingers of splendour
open like butterflies within me.

Then my muscles are interwoven with silk
and my lips coated with closing silence.
I am raised on a sudden shield
and carried by silent slaves

to the luminous island in the dark.
There I quiver and predict rest
and I rest there porously and in luster.

Waarom ik zilver smelt in mijn gedichten?

Waarom ik zilver smelt in mijn gedichten?

Waarom ik zilver smelt in mijn gedichten?
Waarom ik edel tover aan de wervels van de schoonheid?
Zie, dit is de brekende sleutel.

Ik draag de waarheid in mijn bloed als een volmaakte woede,
de pijn betreed ik langs de wortel van de wonde,
de goedheid is de gaafheid op mijn huid.

En liggend in het wijde bed der rechters,
ik speel met licht en duister als met jonge leeuwen,
totdat de strelende vingers der weelde
als vlinders in mij opengaan.

Dan worden mijn spieren met zijde doorweven
en mijn lippen met sluitende stilte beslagen,
ik word op een plotseling schild geheven
en door zwijgende slaven gedragen

naar een lichtverspillend eiland in het duister.
Daar ik sidder en voorspel de rust
en ik rust er poreus en in luister.
Close

Why do I melt silver in my poems?

Why do I melt silver in my poems?
Why do I nobly conjure on the vertebrae of beauty?
See, this is the breaking key.

I carry truth in my blood like a complete rage,
pain I enter along the root of the wound,
goodness is purity upon my skin.

And lying in the wide bed of the judges,
I play with light and darkness like with young lions,
until the caressing fingers of splendour
open like butterflies within me.

Then my muscles are interwoven with silk
and my lips coated with closing silence.
I am raised on a sudden shield
and carried by silent slaves

to the luminous island in the dark.
There I quiver and predict rest
and I rest there porously and in luster.

Why do I melt silver in my poems?

Why do I melt silver in my poems?
Why do I nobly conjure on the vertebrae of beauty?
See, this is the breaking key.

I carry truth in my blood like a complete rage,
pain I enter along the root of the wound,
goodness is purity upon my skin.

And lying in the wide bed of the judges,
I play with light and darkness like with young lions,
until the caressing fingers of splendour
open like butterflies within me.

Then my muscles are interwoven with silk
and my lips coated with closing silence.
I am raised on a sudden shield
and carried by silent slaves

to the luminous island in the dark.
There I quiver and predict rest
and I rest there porously and in luster.
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