Poem
K. Schippers
IN THE CROWDED COUNTRY
Suspect, look out,
poems here
soon petrify
into proverbs.
Travel
quickly to
the inaccessible
closeness that
for want of
summits
stirs
in secret.
Can you still
hear something
there,
an echo?
Quiet,
it’s just
an
impression in
black-and-white
of a sound
in colour.
Is it helping?
So little, too much
this soon.
How do
the tears and
folds
get into
the dust jacket
of
a book
that is
hardly ever
poems here
soon petrify
into proverbs.
Travel
quickly to
the inaccessible
closeness that
for want of
summits
stirs
in secret.
Can you still
hear something
there,
an echo?
Quiet,
it’s just
an
impression in
black-and-white
of a sound
in colour.
Is it helping?
So little, too much
this soon.
How do
the tears and
folds
get into
the dust jacket
of
a book
that is
hardly ever
touched?
© Translation: 2012, Willem Groenewegen
IN HET VOLLE LAND
IN HET VOLLE LAND
Waarschuw, kijk uit,
hier verstijven
gedichten
al gauw
tot spreekwoorden.
Reis
vlug naar
het ontoegankelijke
nabije dat zich
bij gebrek aan
toppen in het
verborgene
roert.
Hoor je daar
toch nog
iets,
een echo?
Stil,
’t is maar
een
afdruk in
zwart-wit
van een geluid
in kleur.
hier verstijven
gedichten
al gauw
tot spreekwoorden.
Reis
vlug naar
het ontoegankelijke
nabije dat zich
bij gebrek aan
toppen in het
verborgene
roert.
Hoor je daar
toch nog
iets,
een echo?
Stil,
’t is maar
een
afdruk in
zwart-wit
van een geluid
in kleur.
Helpt het?
Zo weinig, nu al
te veel.
Hoe komen
toch
de scheurtjes en
vouwen in
het stofomslag
van
een boek
dat zo goed
als nooit
wordt aangeraakt?
© 2011, K. Schippers
From: tellen en wegen
Publisher: Querido, Amsterdam
From: tellen en wegen
Publisher: Querido, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of K. Schippers
Close
IN THE CROWDED COUNTRY
Suspect, look out,
poems here
soon petrify
into proverbs.
Travel
quickly to
the inaccessible
closeness that
for want of
summits
stirs
in secret.
Can you still
hear something
there,
an echo?
Quiet,
it’s just
an
impression in
black-and-white
of a sound
in colour.
Is it helping?
So little, too much
this soon.
How do
the tears and
folds
get into
the dust jacket
of
a book
that is
hardly ever
poems here
soon petrify
into proverbs.
Travel
quickly to
the inaccessible
closeness that
for want of
summits
stirs
in secret.
Can you still
hear something
there,
an echo?
Quiet,
it’s just
an
impression in
black-and-white
of a sound
in colour.
Is it helping?
So little, too much
this soon.
How do
the tears and
folds
get into
the dust jacket
of
a book
that is
hardly ever
touched?
© 2012, Willem Groenewegen
From: tellen en wegen
From: tellen en wegen
IN THE CROWDED COUNTRY
Suspect, look out,
poems here
soon petrify
into proverbs.
Travel
quickly to
the inaccessible
closeness that
for want of
summits
stirs
in secret.
Can you still
hear something
there,
an echo?
Quiet,
it’s just
an
impression in
black-and-white
of a sound
in colour.
Is it helping?
So little, too much
this soon.
How do
the tears and
folds
get into
the dust jacket
of
a book
that is
hardly ever
poems here
soon petrify
into proverbs.
Travel
quickly to
the inaccessible
closeness that
for want of
summits
stirs
in secret.
Can you still
hear something
there,
an echo?
Quiet,
it’s just
an
impression in
black-and-white
of a sound
in colour.
Is it helping?
So little, too much
this soon.
How do
the tears and
folds
get into
the dust jacket
of
a book
that is
hardly ever
touched?
© 2012, Willem Groenewegen
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