Poem
Arjen Duinker
LONG LIVE GOD, LUIS JUST SAID
My thoughts were elsewhere at the time,More with Shane and my landlord’s banking details.
Luis left, not caring he was drunk.
I have to play tomorrow afternoon, he said, bridge tournament
In Dubrovnik.
His rental car’s parked just outside, no idea why.
Better to leave it across the street, at Johannes and Gerda’s,
Who just got back from Venice, I believe,
Couple of days of drifting.
Heard some news this afternoon of Fluitje,
A Turkish guy from Termunterzijl, who happens to know Luis
From a race track in Dubai.
A pal for the future, said Luis
When I told him Shane irritated me.
Not surprising, said Luis,
What an arsehole.
Fluitje – before I forget – sent me a photograph
Saying: this is my mother.
What was it to me?
I wrote back: is she okay?
Then Eltjo called about a rugby ball on special offer.
Funny thing: he knows Fluitje from the boxing ring.
Shane isn’t easy-going, not by any means.
But what Luis thinks of him, well, that’s just Luis.
Time was when Shane sold socks for a living,
A measly, wearisome trade, but nowadays
© Translation: 2009, Ina Rilke
LEVE GOD, ZEI LUIS NET NOG
LEVE GOD, ZEI LUIS NET NOG
Terwijl ik met mijn gedachten ergens anders was,Meer bij Shane en bij het rekeningnummer van mijn huisbaas.
Luis vertrok, het kon hem niet schelen dat hij dronken was.
Ik moet spelen, zei hij, morgenmiddag in Dubrovnik,
Bridgetoernooi.
Zijn huurauto staat hier voor de deur, geen idee waarom.
Beter om die aan de overkant te zetten, bij Johannes en Gerda
Die volgens mij net terug zijn uit Venetië,
Paar dagen gedobberd.
Vanmiddag ook nog nieuws van Fluitje,
Een Turkse gozer uit Termunterzijl, die Luis weer kent
Van een koers in Dubai.
Een makker voor de toekomst, zei Luis
Toen ik hem vertelde dat ik me aan Shane ergerde.
Verbaast me niks, zei Luis,
Wat een paardenlul.
Fluitje, voor ik hem vergeet, stuurde dus een foto
En schreef: dit is mijn moeder.
Wat moest ik ermee?
Ik schreef terug: gaat het goed met haar?
Toen belde Eltjo over een rugbybal in de aanbieding.
Grappig genoeg kent hij Fluitje weer uit de boksring.
Shane is zeker de makkelijkste niet.
Maar wat Luis van hem vindt, ja, dat is nou Luis.
Shane hield zich lange tijd bezig met de verkoop van sokken,
Een kleine handel die vermoeit, maar inmiddels
© 2009, Arjen Duinker
From: Buurtkinderen
Publisher: Querido, Amsterdam
From: Buurtkinderen
Publisher: Querido, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Arjen Duinker
Close
LONG LIVE GOD, LUIS JUST SAID
My thoughts were elsewhere at the time,More with Shane and my landlord’s banking details.
Luis left, not caring he was drunk.
I have to play tomorrow afternoon, he said, bridge tournament
In Dubrovnik.
His rental car’s parked just outside, no idea why.
Better to leave it across the street, at Johannes and Gerda’s,
Who just got back from Venice, I believe,
Couple of days of drifting.
Heard some news this afternoon of Fluitje,
A Turkish guy from Termunterzijl, who happens to know Luis
From a race track in Dubai.
A pal for the future, said Luis
When I told him Shane irritated me.
Not surprising, said Luis,
What an arsehole.
Fluitje – before I forget – sent me a photograph
Saying: this is my mother.
What was it to me?
I wrote back: is she okay?
Then Eltjo called about a rugby ball on special offer.
Funny thing: he knows Fluitje from the boxing ring.
Shane isn’t easy-going, not by any means.
But what Luis thinks of him, well, that’s just Luis.
Time was when Shane sold socks for a living,
A measly, wearisome trade, but nowadays
© 2009, Ina Rilke
From: Buurtkinderen
From: Buurtkinderen
LONG LIVE GOD, LUIS JUST SAID
My thoughts were elsewhere at the time,More with Shane and my landlord’s banking details.
Luis left, not caring he was drunk.
I have to play tomorrow afternoon, he said, bridge tournament
In Dubrovnik.
His rental car’s parked just outside, no idea why.
Better to leave it across the street, at Johannes and Gerda’s,
Who just got back from Venice, I believe,
Couple of days of drifting.
Heard some news this afternoon of Fluitje,
A Turkish guy from Termunterzijl, who happens to know Luis
From a race track in Dubai.
A pal for the future, said Luis
When I told him Shane irritated me.
Not surprising, said Luis,
What an arsehole.
Fluitje – before I forget – sent me a photograph
Saying: this is my mother.
What was it to me?
I wrote back: is she okay?
Then Eltjo called about a rugby ball on special offer.
Funny thing: he knows Fluitje from the boxing ring.
Shane isn’t easy-going, not by any means.
But what Luis thinks of him, well, that’s just Luis.
Time was when Shane sold socks for a living,
A measly, wearisome trade, but nowadays
© 2009, Ina Rilke
Sponsors
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère