Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Matthew Sweeney

Black Moon

ZWARTE MAAN

Voor wit gebruikte hij tandpasta,
voor rood, bloed – maar alleen dat van hemzelf
waarvan hij dagelijks net genoeg aftapte.

Voor groen stampte hij basilicum fijn
met wat olijfolie. Zijn geel was eigeel,
zijn zwart, met water besprenkeld kolengruis.

Hij probeerde verschillende wegen naar blauw
voordat hij stopte bij de kruising
van bosbessensap en gemalen grasklokjes.

Zijn bruin, ook van hemzelf, werd aangebracht
aan het eind van de dag, voor het eerste
glas Laphraoig en de stenen kruik bier.

Andere kleuren gebruikte hij niet, maar zijn palet
werd geprezen door niemand minder dan prins Haisal,
hetgeen hem talloze opdrachten bezorgde

en een uitnodiging voor een verblijf in Koeweit
waar hij niet op in ging. In eigen land
was de Koninklijke Familie minder genereus

dus schilderde hij ze allemaal, in een reeks
die later zijn bruine periode genoemd werd,
hoewel dat strikt genomen niet klopte.

Hij exposeerde nooit samen met andere schilders,
dronk niet met ze, praatte niet over ze –
smaalde niet eens over hun werk.

Een grot op de Orkneys was zijn laatste woning
en hij reed te paard naar zijn atelier.
Er stonden geen mensen op de schilderijen

die in de grot werden aangetroffen, slordig
opgestapeld, zonder taal of teken van de maker,
en bovenop lag een afbeelding van een zwarte maan.

Black Moon

For white he used toothpaste,
for red, blood – but only his own
that he hijacked just enough of each day.

For green he crushed basil in a little
olive oil. His yellow was egg yolk,
his black, coal dust dampened with water.

He tried several routes to blue
before stopping at the intersection
of bilberry juice and pounded bluebells.

His brown was his own, too, applied
last thing in the day before the first
Laphraoig, and the stone jug of ale.

He used no other colours, but his tone
was praised by Prince Haisal, no less,
which got him a rake of commissions

and a residency-offer in Kuwait
which he turned down. At home
the Royal Family was less generous

so he painted them all, in a series
that came to be called his brown period,
though this was strictly incorrect.

He never exhibited with other painters,
never drank with them, spoke of them –
never even spat at their work.

A cave in the Orkneys was his last dwelling
and he rode a horse to his studio.
There were no people in these paintings,

which were found piled up on one another
inside the cave, with no sign of him,
and on top was a depiction of a black moon.
Close

Black Moon

For white he used toothpaste,
for red, blood – but only his own
that he hijacked just enough of each day.

For green he crushed basil in a little
olive oil. His yellow was egg yolk,
his black, coal dust dampened with water.

He tried several routes to blue
before stopping at the intersection
of bilberry juice and pounded bluebells.

His brown was his own, too, applied
last thing in the day before the first
Laphraoig, and the stone jug of ale.

He used no other colours, but his tone
was praised by Prince Haisal, no less,
which got him a rake of commissions

and a residency-offer in Kuwait
which he turned down. At home
the Royal Family was less generous

so he painted them all, in a series
that came to be called his brown period,
though this was strictly incorrect.

He never exhibited with other painters,
never drank with them, spoke of them –
never even spat at their work.

A cave in the Orkneys was his last dwelling
and he rode a horse to his studio.
There were no people in these paintings,

which were found piled up on one another
inside the cave, with no sign of him,
and on top was a depiction of a black moon.

Black Moon

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Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
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Versopolis
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