Poem
Luke Davies
LONDON, WINTER
LONDEN, WINTER
Loop ongezien door godverlaten watervlakten,stad van bedrog, belegering en uitgevers.
Geen ruggengraat hier, niets om te vechten
met niemand. Alles verzonken in onbarmhartig verval.
Elk meisje dat ooit pony reed
uitgeput in de stallen. Het enige
dat ons kan redden, dat door de melkwegen
zou klepperen, wie weet een strijdwagen, verdampt.
Zwartwordend rijp rest op de vijvers.
Eenden en zwanen hebben genoeg luizen
voor ons allemaal. De schrijvers eten Spam*;
manieren zijn het wat de rest tezamenhoudt.
© Vertaling: 2009, Rob Schouten
*goedkoop soort ingeblikte ham.
LONDON, WINTER
Pass unseen through a godforsaken floodplain,city of treachery, siege and publishers.
No backbone here at all, nothing to fight,
or with. All sunken in unmerciful decay.
Every girl who ever rode a pony
prostrate in the stables. The one thing
that would save us, that would clatter
through the galaxies, a chariot perhaps, evaporates.
Frost rime blackened on the ponds is left.
The ducks and swans have lice enough
for all of us. The publicists eat Spam;
manners holds the rest of it together.
© 2006, Luke Davies
From: Totem
Publisher: Allen & Unwin, Sydney
From: Totem
Publisher: Allen & Unwin, Sydney
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Poems of Luke Davies
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LONDON, WINTER
Pass unseen through a godforsaken floodplain,city of treachery, siege and publishers.
No backbone here at all, nothing to fight,
or with. All sunken in unmerciful decay.
Every girl who ever rode a pony
prostrate in the stables. The one thing
that would save us, that would clatter
through the galaxies, a chariot perhaps, evaporates.
Frost rime blackened on the ponds is left.
The ducks and swans have lice enough
for all of us. The publicists eat Spam;
manners holds the rest of it together.
From: Totem
LONDON, WINTER
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