Poem
Marije Langelaar
Bird
In the bird itselfeverything seemed equally worthless
it was strangely equivalent to
crawling into a glove
no trace of the heroic
of course sometimes lifted up
and the beak opens and the beak closes
(light streaming in)
repeatedly singing the national anthem
(masterly vibration)
(branches full of ruttish boys)
after a week floatingsick deaf from blaring
and addled from the egg that had started to grow
next to my head pulled on the handle
chucked onto the roof
© Translation: 2012, Diane Butterman
Vogel
Vogel
In de vogel zelfleek alles even waardeloos
’t kwam eigenaardig overeen met in
een handschoen kruipen
niks van dat heroïsche
welja soms opgetild
en bek gaat open bek gaat dicht
(binnenvallend licht)
herhaaldelijk het volkslied fluiten
(meesterlijke trilling)
(takken vol bronstige jongens)
na een week zweefziek doof van getetter
en murw van het ei dat naast mijn hoofd was
gaan groeien aan de hendel getrokken
het dak op gekwakt
© 2009, Marije Langelaar
From: De schuur in
Publisher: Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam
From: De schuur in
Publisher: Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Marije Langelaar
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Bird
In the bird itselfeverything seemed equally worthless
it was strangely equivalent to
crawling into a glove
no trace of the heroic
of course sometimes lifted up
and the beak opens and the beak closes
(light streaming in)
repeatedly singing the national anthem
(masterly vibration)
(branches full of ruttish boys)
after a week floatingsick deaf from blaring
and addled from the egg that had started to grow
next to my head pulled on the handle
chucked onto the roof
© 2012, Diane Butterman
From: De schuur in
From: De schuur in
Bird
In the bird itselfeverything seemed equally worthless
it was strangely equivalent to
crawling into a glove
no trace of the heroic
of course sometimes lifted up
and the beak opens and the beak closes
(light streaming in)
repeatedly singing the national anthem
(masterly vibration)
(branches full of ruttish boys)
after a week floatingsick deaf from blaring
and addled from the egg that had started to grow
next to my head pulled on the handle
chucked onto the roof
© 2012, Diane Butterman
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