Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Leonard Nolens

Tell the children we’re no good 7

Tell the children we’re no good.
They must pay for the dung pit, the cesspool
That we dug in our bank of clouds, they must
Clear out the heavenly sewers, that dump filled
With shit in azure the Ancients sang of.

My primal sin has eclipsed all their suns.

Our light was bountiful once. We left it
Polluted: there isn’t a star
To be seen in the streets, we’re being electrically
Dazzled. Our minds jumped over the moon.
And the prospect of death sometimes seems a relief.

Zeg aan de kinderen dat wij niet deugen 7

Zeg aan de kinderen dat wij niet deugen 7

Zeg aan de kinderen dat wij niet deugen.
Zij moeten de mestkuil betalen, de beerput
Die wij in ons wolkenveld dolven, zij moeten
De hemelriolen ruimen, die stortplaats
Van stront in azuur waar de Ouden van zongen.

Mijn erfzonde heeft al hun zonnen verdonkeremaand.

Ons licht was vrijgevig. Wij hebben het smerig
Achtergelaten, er valt hier geen ster meer
Te zien in de straten, wij worden elektrisch
Verblind. Ons verstand sprong een gat in de lucht.
En doodgaan is soms een verademing straks.
Close

Tell the children we’re no good 7

Tell the children we’re no good.
They must pay for the dung pit, the cesspool
That we dug in our bank of clouds, they must
Clear out the heavenly sewers, that dump filled
With shit in azure the Ancients sang of.

My primal sin has eclipsed all their suns.

Our light was bountiful once. We left it
Polluted: there isn’t a star
To be seen in the streets, we’re being electrically
Dazzled. Our minds jumped over the moon.
And the prospect of death sometimes seems a relief.

Tell the children we’re no good 7

Tell the children we’re no good.
They must pay for the dung pit, the cesspool
That we dug in our bank of clouds, they must
Clear out the heavenly sewers, that dump filled
With shit in azure the Ancients sang of.

My primal sin has eclipsed all their suns.

Our light was bountiful once. We left it
Polluted: there isn’t a star
To be seen in the streets, we’re being electrically
Dazzled. Our minds jumped over the moon.
And the prospect of death sometimes seems a relief.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère