Poem
Ester Naomi Perquin
BIG BROTHER
No father or mother to get us down from the treesfor food or sleep, the most climbing-packed summer for years.
No ponytail for me, I tore dresses to shreds,
got my hair tangled in branches – you fetched
scissors and I became a soldier but
the sword was too heavy and I couldn’t
lift the shield off the ground.
You shouted, urging me higher – so I climbed and climbed.
Warmth permeated the trees, deep into the night
you lay like an animal on the bottom branch.
No lions or murderers could come.
For a girl, on watch I had excellent sight.
© Translation: 2012, Paul Vincent
GROTE BROER
GROTE BROER
Geen vader of moeder om ons uit de bomen te halenvoor eten of slaap, de klimrijkste zomer in jaren.
Ik wilde geen staart, scheurde jurken aan flarden,
raakte met haren in takken verward – jij haalde
een schaar en ik werd een soldaat maar
het zwaard was zo zwaar en het schild
kreeg ik niet van de grond.
Je schreeuwde me hoger – ik klom dus en klom.
Warmte trok in de bomen, tot diep in de nacht
lag jij als een dier op de onderste tak.
Er konden geen leeuwen of moordenaars komen.
Ik hield, voor een meisje, uitstekend de wacht.
© 2009, Ester Naomi Perquin
From: Namens de ander
Publisher: Van Oorschot, Amsterdam
From: Namens de ander
Publisher: Van Oorschot, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Ester Naomi Perquin
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BIG BROTHER
No father or mother to get us down from the treesfor food or sleep, the most climbing-packed summer for years.
No ponytail for me, I tore dresses to shreds,
got my hair tangled in branches – you fetched
scissors and I became a soldier but
the sword was too heavy and I couldn’t
lift the shield off the ground.
You shouted, urging me higher – so I climbed and climbed.
Warmth permeated the trees, deep into the night
you lay like an animal on the bottom branch.
No lions or murderers could come.
For a girl, on watch I had excellent sight.
© 2012, Paul Vincent
From: Namens de ander
From: Namens de ander
BIG BROTHER
No father or mother to get us down from the treesfor food or sleep, the most climbing-packed summer for years.
No ponytail for me, I tore dresses to shreds,
got my hair tangled in branches – you fetched
scissors and I became a soldier but
the sword was too heavy and I couldn’t
lift the shield off the ground.
You shouted, urging me higher – so I climbed and climbed.
Warmth permeated the trees, deep into the night
you lay like an animal on the bottom branch.
No lions or murderers could come.
For a girl, on watch I had excellent sight.
© 2012, Paul Vincent
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