Poem
J. Slauerhoff
LISBOA
Full of grey and white buildings this port,New houses abandoned half-way,
Ruins that crumble to nought
And columns one sees turning grey.
And the earthquake’s piles of rubble
Still lie there on all sides.
Salvage and clear? Why trouble?
Underneath, the danger still hides.
Some mansions obliquely truncated,
Others missing a section of wall.
Lisboa’s life is located
In the past: lasting, but no peace at all.
Was this ever before a city’s fate?
A ghost whose life has ceased,
Strangely loyal to its former state
Since the ash rained down on the feast?
© Translation: 2007, Paul Vincent
LISBOA
LISBOA
Een stad van grijswitte gebouwenEn halfvoltooide huizen,
Van ruïnes die spoorloos vergruizen
En zuilen die zichtbaar vergrauwen.
En overal zijn nog de puinen
Van de aardbeving openbaar.
Waarom zou men bergen en ruimen?
Onder de aarde dreigt steeds het gevaar.
Paleizen zijn scheef afgesneden,
Van andre ontbreekt een brok muur.
Lisboa bestaat in ’t verleden,
Maar ’t kent geen rust, enkel duur.
Was het ooit aan een stad gegeven
Voort te leven als geest,
Vreemd nu en trouw vroeger gebleven
Na een aschregen op een feest?
© 1998, Erven J. Slauerhoff / K. Lekkerkerker / Uitgeverij Nijgh & Van Ditmar
From: Alle gedichten
Publisher: Nijgh & Van Ditmar, Amsterdam
From: Alle gedichten
Publisher: Nijgh & Van Ditmar, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of J. Slauerhoff
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LISBOA
Full of grey and white buildings this port,New houses abandoned half-way,
Ruins that crumble to nought
And columns one sees turning grey.
And the earthquake’s piles of rubble
Still lie there on all sides.
Salvage and clear? Why trouble?
Underneath, the danger still hides.
Some mansions obliquely truncated,
Others missing a section of wall.
Lisboa’s life is located
In the past: lasting, but no peace at all.
Was this ever before a city’s fate?
A ghost whose life has ceased,
Strangely loyal to its former state
Since the ash rained down on the feast?
© 2007, Paul Vincent
From: Alle gedichten
From: Alle gedichten
LISBOA
Full of grey and white buildings this port,New houses abandoned half-way,
Ruins that crumble to nought
And columns one sees turning grey.
And the earthquake’s piles of rubble
Still lie there on all sides.
Salvage and clear? Why trouble?
Underneath, the danger still hides.
Some mansions obliquely truncated,
Others missing a section of wall.
Lisboa’s life is located
In the past: lasting, but no peace at all.
Was this ever before a city’s fate?
A ghost whose life has ceased,
Strangely loyal to its former state
Since the ash rained down on the feast?
© 2007, Paul Vincent
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