Poem
Jan Baeke
PLEASE TAKE HIM AWAY FROM HERE
A man like the one recently found, nicely madea little younger for this occasion and glancing
in such a way that his hand can shake yours
and his voice can bring coolness.
Opposite this the world, large, nowhere clearly defined
won back from the newspaper, the bar table and the blind stream
of cigarettes, but lost after the procession
when a tougher farewell awaits than to the dead
whom we toast and toast.
Clouds are copied in thought
so that, also in thought, shadows dominate
the squares and conversations and bring coolness
in those inexplicably persistent minutes of heat, of
smiling people who explain to you
how suicide works and road construction
who denounce those inexplicably persistent minutes.
Between the man and the world
the parts of an entire season
lots of skirts, smoke and sunlight in every window, walkers from the left
and cyclists around the corner where the containers are.
Days when few things happen at the appointed time.
The rest doesn’t happen at all.
© Translation: 2008, Willem Groenewegen
HAAL HEM HIER WEG, ALSTUBLIEFT
HAAL HEM HIER WEG, ALSTUBLIEFT
Een man als laatst teruggevonden, mooi gemaaktvoor de gelegenheid wat jonger en zo kijkend
dat zijn hand jouw hand kan schudden
en zijn stem verkoeling brengt.
Daartegenover de wereld, groot, nergens scherp omlijnd
teruggewonnen van de krant, het cafétafeltje en de blinde stroom
van sigaretten, maar verloren na de processie
als zwaarder afscheid wacht dan van de doden
waarop zij drinken en drinken.
Wolken worden in gedachten nagemaakt
opdat ook in gedachten schaduwen de pleinen en gesprekken
domineren en verkoeling brengen
in die onverklaarbaar aanhoudende minuten vol hitte, vol
glimlachende mensen die je uitleggen
hoe zelfmoord werkt en wegenbouw
die afgeven op die onverklaarbaar aanhoudende minuten.
Tussen de man en de wereld
de onderdelen van een heel seizoen
veel rokjes, rook en zonlicht in alle ruiten, wandelaars van links
en fietsers om de hoek waar de containers staan.
Dagen dat weinig dingen gebeuren op het juiste tijdstip.
De rest gebeurt helemaal niet.
© 2004, Jan Baeke
From: Iedereen is er
Publisher: De Bezige Bij, Amsterdam
From: Iedereen is er
Publisher: De Bezige Bij, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Jan Baeke
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PLEASE TAKE HIM AWAY FROM HERE
A man like the one recently found, nicely madea little younger for this occasion and glancing
in such a way that his hand can shake yours
and his voice can bring coolness.
Opposite this the world, large, nowhere clearly defined
won back from the newspaper, the bar table and the blind stream
of cigarettes, but lost after the procession
when a tougher farewell awaits than to the dead
whom we toast and toast.
Clouds are copied in thought
so that, also in thought, shadows dominate
the squares and conversations and bring coolness
in those inexplicably persistent minutes of heat, of
smiling people who explain to you
how suicide works and road construction
who denounce those inexplicably persistent minutes.
Between the man and the world
the parts of an entire season
lots of skirts, smoke and sunlight in every window, walkers from the left
and cyclists around the corner where the containers are.
Days when few things happen at the appointed time.
The rest doesn’t happen at all.
© 2008, Willem Groenewegen
From: Iedereen is er
From: Iedereen is er
PLEASE TAKE HIM AWAY FROM HERE
A man like the one recently found, nicely madea little younger for this occasion and glancing
in such a way that his hand can shake yours
and his voice can bring coolness.
Opposite this the world, large, nowhere clearly defined
won back from the newspaper, the bar table and the blind stream
of cigarettes, but lost after the procession
when a tougher farewell awaits than to the dead
whom we toast and toast.
Clouds are copied in thought
so that, also in thought, shadows dominate
the squares and conversations and bring coolness
in those inexplicably persistent minutes of heat, of
smiling people who explain to you
how suicide works and road construction
who denounce those inexplicably persistent minutes.
Between the man and the world
the parts of an entire season
lots of skirts, smoke and sunlight in every window, walkers from the left
and cyclists around the corner where the containers are.
Days when few things happen at the appointed time.
The rest doesn’t happen at all.
© 2008, Willem Groenewegen
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