Poem
Luke Davies
NINE HOURS
NEGEN UUR
In Studio City zuigt de kolibrieDe meeldraden uit.
De keuken zwijgt. De lucht van LA
Heeft zijn demonen uitgebakken.
De tuberose bloeit om te herinneren
Aan de blaadjes op het zwembad morgen,
De wand drupt steeltjes op wachtende aardbevingen.
Iedereen is weg om films te maken. Een valk
Blijft hangen. Wij kunnen niks groots doen
Maar slechts iets kleins met grote liefde.
Reizen is stil zijn. Dan verlicht de ondergaande zon
Teder al de condensstrepen boven ons.
© Vertaling: 2009, Rob Schouten
NINE HOURS
In Studio City the hummingbirdSucks from the stamens.
The kitchen is silent. Outside, the sky
Of L.A. has been baked of its demons.
The tuberose blooms to remind of tomorrow’s
Petals on the surface of the swimming pool.
The pool wall drops stilts to waiting earthquakes.
Everyone’s off making films today. A kestrel
Hovers. We cannot do great things
But only small things with great love.
To travel is to be still. Then sunset
Highlights tenderly all the flight paths above.
© 2004, Luke Davies
From: Totem
Publisher: Allen and Unwin, Sydney
From: Totem
Publisher: Allen and Unwin, Sydney
Poems
Poems of Luke Davies
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NINE HOURS
In Studio City the hummingbirdSucks from the stamens.
The kitchen is silent. Outside, the sky
Of L.A. has been baked of its demons.
The tuberose blooms to remind of tomorrow’s
Petals on the surface of the swimming pool.
The pool wall drops stilts to waiting earthquakes.
Everyone’s off making films today. A kestrel
Hovers. We cannot do great things
But only small things with great love.
To travel is to be still. Then sunset
Highlights tenderly all the flight paths above.
From: Totem
NINE HOURS
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