Poem
Ramsey Nasr
credo
give me the head of a daft persistent into-the-ground runnerwho rhymes heart with part cypress with red dead with hyacinth
scrapes his spilling confidence back together bending down
and won’t stop organising stumble tours down trodden paths
tossing banana rhymes ahead he’s imperturbable
half and off he calls them magic cobbles look
a bad joke told by a poet the way he rants and raves
leaping up sometimes for no reason snatching handfuls of air
but not always no not always and I prefer him far more
a thousand and one times more than scrimping king holland
with his battened modern voice behind his spiky table
wheelchair and handbrake no I’ll manage or damage myself
also I loathe oracles of the order of the chocolate defecationists
pouring forth their broad brown nile certain of their own infallible delusion
confection-crapping a true vatican box full of chocolate liqueurs
I believe
in velure petals the ruined carmine of the sun’s setting
the splendour-driven backward flight of the quetzal
his long emerald green tail awkwardly radiant for her
his ridiculous ostentation favouring life over death
and I believe in utter love it says what it says as if it doesn’t
compared to liberian rebels gang rape is poetry too
I am attached to froth in all vanity I bear my night like a pouch
© Translation: 2004, David Colmer
credo
credo
geef mij het hoofd van de onnozel volhardende pletterloperhij die hart op zwart cipres op rood dood op anijs laat rijmen
zijn uitpuilend gemoed weer bij elkaar raapt vooroverbukkend
en maar struikeltochten organiseren door op platgetreden paden
bananenrijm voor zich uit te werpen hij is onverstoorbaar
half en kreupel blijft hij het zijn toverkeien zeggen kijk maar
een slechte mop verteld door een dichter zoals hij tekeergaat
soms springt hij op grijpt zonder reden mis naar omhoog
soms ook niet soms niet en ik heb hem altijd ruim verkozen
wel duizend-en-één-voudig boven hollands koning schraalhans
met de dichtgeschroefde moderne stem aan zijn stekelige tafel
rolstoel en handrem heus ik zal mijzelf wel redden breken schaden
ook aan orakels in de orde van de chocoladeschijter heb ik hekel
bruine nijl gieten ze uit in eigen zekerheid de onwrikbare waan
een echte vaticaanse doos likeurbonbons te hebben banketgekakt
ik geloof
in fulpen bloembladen het kapotte karmijn van de avondschimmering
in de pronkgedwongen achterwaartse vlucht van de quetzal
zijn lange smaragdgroene staart onhandig stralend omwille van haar
in bespottelijke praalzucht bewijst hij diensten van leven op dood
en ik geloof in baarlijke liefde er staat wat er staat alsof het niets is
vergeleken bij liberiaanse rebellen is ook groepsverkrachting poëzie
aan schuim hecht ik in volle ijdelheid draag ik mijn nacht als een buidel
© 2004, Ramsey Nasr
From: Onhandig bloesemend
Publisher: De Bezige Bij, Amsterdam
From: Onhandig bloesemend
Publisher: De Bezige Bij, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Ramsey Nasr
Close
credo
give me the head of a daft persistent into-the-ground runnerwho rhymes heart with part cypress with red dead with hyacinth
scrapes his spilling confidence back together bending down
and won’t stop organising stumble tours down trodden paths
tossing banana rhymes ahead he’s imperturbable
half and off he calls them magic cobbles look
a bad joke told by a poet the way he rants and raves
leaping up sometimes for no reason snatching handfuls of air
but not always no not always and I prefer him far more
a thousand and one times more than scrimping king holland
with his battened modern voice behind his spiky table
wheelchair and handbrake no I’ll manage or damage myself
also I loathe oracles of the order of the chocolate defecationists
pouring forth their broad brown nile certain of their own infallible delusion
confection-crapping a true vatican box full of chocolate liqueurs
I believe
in velure petals the ruined carmine of the sun’s setting
the splendour-driven backward flight of the quetzal
his long emerald green tail awkwardly radiant for her
his ridiculous ostentation favouring life over death
and I believe in utter love it says what it says as if it doesn’t
compared to liberian rebels gang rape is poetry too
I am attached to froth in all vanity I bear my night like a pouch
© 2004, David Colmer
From: Onhandig bloesemend
From: Onhandig bloesemend
credo
give me the head of a daft persistent into-the-ground runnerwho rhymes heart with part cypress with red dead with hyacinth
scrapes his spilling confidence back together bending down
and won’t stop organising stumble tours down trodden paths
tossing banana rhymes ahead he’s imperturbable
half and off he calls them magic cobbles look
a bad joke told by a poet the way he rants and raves
leaping up sometimes for no reason snatching handfuls of air
but not always no not always and I prefer him far more
a thousand and one times more than scrimping king holland
with his battened modern voice behind his spiky table
wheelchair and handbrake no I’ll manage or damage myself
also I loathe oracles of the order of the chocolate defecationists
pouring forth their broad brown nile certain of their own infallible delusion
confection-crapping a true vatican box full of chocolate liqueurs
I believe
in velure petals the ruined carmine of the sun’s setting
the splendour-driven backward flight of the quetzal
his long emerald green tail awkwardly radiant for her
his ridiculous ostentation favouring life over death
and I believe in utter love it says what it says as if it doesn’t
compared to liberian rebels gang rape is poetry too
I am attached to froth in all vanity I bear my night like a pouch
© 2004, David Colmer
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