Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Marije Langelaar

Grass

The magic has been on the prowl for days
stimulates and pushes thousands of men
to a small cast-iron fence everything is still closed but
already it germinates
prepare us for action, born naked, stretch
our hands upwards
push away now shoot into the air
all at once blinded by the light
grope into the wind and wait

Gras

Gras

De tover ligt al dagen op de loer
prikkelt en wringt duizenden mannen
voor een klein ijzeren hekje nog is alles gesloten maar
het kiemt al
zetten ons schrap, naaktgeboren, richten
onze handen naar boven
afzetten nu schieten de lucht in
in een keer blind van het licht
tasten de wind in en wachten
Close

Grass

The magic has been on the prowl for days
stimulates and pushes thousands of men
to a small cast-iron fence everything is still closed but
already it germinates
prepare us for action, born naked, stretch
our hands upwards
push away now shoot into the air
all at once blinded by the light
grope into the wind and wait

Grass

The magic has been on the prowl for days
stimulates and pushes thousands of men
to a small cast-iron fence everything is still closed but
already it germinates
prepare us for action, born naked, stretch
our hands upwards
push away now shoot into the air
all at once blinded by the light
grope into the wind and wait
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