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Gedicht

Moe Way

Rangoon

I hear the bells and, all is well.
It’s 1 AM or 2 AM. I can’t sleep.
In Rangoon, whenever an old house is
razed, I walk into one street, and
yet another.
How curvy, and convoluted!
I still hear the bells, and all is well.
Everything will be renewed someday, probably.
How will the dim lampposts,
the fragrant dreams beneath the concrete sidewalks,
and our hearts be reinvented?
Just like the same news stories
reiterated in our different dailies,
lovers, o… love, I repeat.
Rangoon scuffles out of my hands
which way will you flow like a river?

Senile road signs and heaps of
broken bricks flash in the background.
Our past and our shadows have been sensational news.
On the glass walls of the banks and the malls,
I see the fleeting reflections of  
Pazuntaung evenings, 42nd street, Myaynigone night bazaar …
in the beams of the passing cars.
Yes, I can’t sleep. And, Rangoon can’t sleep.
When the whole city is asleep
I spray-paint the walls of the new buildings.
I am back in Rangoon.
Rangoon is just like me.

Rangoon

Moe Way

Moe Way

(Burma, 1969)

Landen

Ontdek andere dichters en gedichten uit Myanmar

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Ontdek andere dichters en gedichten in het Birmees

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Rangoon

Rangoon

I hear the bells and, all is well.
It’s 1 AM or 2 AM. I can’t sleep.
In Rangoon, whenever an old house is
razed, I walk into one street, and
yet another.
How curvy, and convoluted!
I still hear the bells, and all is well.
Everything will be renewed someday, probably.
How will the dim lampposts,
the fragrant dreams beneath the concrete sidewalks,
and our hearts be reinvented?
Just like the same news stories
reiterated in our different dailies,
lovers, o… love, I repeat.
Rangoon scuffles out of my hands
which way will you flow like a river?

Senile road signs and heaps of
broken bricks flash in the background.
Our past and our shadows have been sensational news.
On the glass walls of the banks and the malls,
I see the fleeting reflections of  
Pazuntaung evenings, 42nd street, Myaynigone night bazaar …
in the beams of the passing cars.
Yes, I can’t sleep. And, Rangoon can’t sleep.
When the whole city is asleep
I spray-paint the walls of the new buildings.
I am back in Rangoon.
Rangoon is just like me.
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