Poem
Luke Davies
LUCKY
GELUK
Hij sneed door winter en terugop een prachtige plek; hij sneed
door water, schopte z’n benen door de golven.
Het water was ijskoud ondanks of dankzij
de roze schemering maar sommige surfers bleven.
De golven sloegen op hol;
een plank brak in tweeën. Boven het sonore
blanke geluid der branding was die krak
precies een zweep van licht en werd de wereld
eventjes heel erg ijl. Wel, zevenhonderd dollar
eigen pijn, maar ik kende die vent niet;
en pijn is er altijd wel. Het kernprobleem
was eerder tijd dan al die kleine pijntjes
van ons, die zuchten, zorgen, de wereld
die plotseling zomaar wat ijler wordt
dan waar we redelijkerwijs op mogen hopen: Leven.
De golven waren woest: gegeten worden door wat kan
betekent doodgewoon geluk, zelfs in de liefde.
© Vertaling: 2009, Rob Schouten
LUCKY
He stabbed through winter and backin a place of great beauty; he stabbed
through water; he kicked his legs through the waves.
The water was freezing despite or because of
a pink sky at dusk but some surfers stayed out there.
The waves were closing out now;
a board snapped in two. Above the so rounded
white noise of the breakers, that crack
was like a whip of light and the world
went very thin. Well, seven hundred dollars
of his own pain but I didn’t know that guy;
and there’ll always be pain. The central
problem was rather time than all the little injuries
that make us up, the gasps, the sorrow, the world
suddenly and for no reason making itself thinner
than what we could reasonably hope for: Life.
The waves were fury; to be consumed by the possible
meant simply to be lucky, even in love.
© 2004, Luke Davies
From: Totem: Totem poem plus 40 love poems
Publisher: Allen and Unwin, Sydney
From: Totem: Totem poem plus 40 love poems
Publisher: Allen and Unwin, Sydney
Poems
Poems of Luke Davies
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LUCKY
He stabbed through winter and backin a place of great beauty; he stabbed
through water; he kicked his legs through the waves.
The water was freezing despite or because of
a pink sky at dusk but some surfers stayed out there.
The waves were closing out now;
a board snapped in two. Above the so rounded
white noise of the breakers, that crack
was like a whip of light and the world
went very thin. Well, seven hundred dollars
of his own pain but I didn’t know that guy;
and there’ll always be pain. The central
problem was rather time than all the little injuries
that make us up, the gasps, the sorrow, the world
suddenly and for no reason making itself thinner
than what we could reasonably hope for: Life.
The waves were fury; to be consumed by the possible
meant simply to be lucky, even in love.
From: Totem: Totem poem plus 40 love poems
LUCKY
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