Poem
Ester Naomi Perquin
CONVERSATION ON THE STREET
A man speaks, no, he doesn’t speak, he screams into his mobilewho the hell, he takes a breath, he sees me standing there,
who do you think you are
with your so-called manners your rich friends
your completely-booked-up week your good job
his voice breaks the phone open
the woman rolls out over the street, half dressed, mascara
smudged, scrambles to her feet in shock
and he starts again from the top
who do you think you are and watches me while hitting her,
watching until I shout enough stop she’s already
curled up in a ball she’s not hurting you man stop
but he’s not finished yet and watches me and asks
who do you think unrelenting forming words
in the palm of his hand you are
and doesn’t stop again
© Translation: 2012, David Colmer
GESPREK
GESPREK
Op straat zegt een man in zijn telefoon nee zegt niet schreeuwtwie denk je eigenlijk, haalt adem, ziet mij staan,
wie denk je dat je bent
met je goede manieren zogenaamd die rijke vrienden van je
met je vol geplande week je goede baan
zijn stem breekt het toestel open,
die vrouw rolt ineens over straat, half aangekleed, mascara
uitgelopen, krabbelt overeind, staat verbaasd
en hij begint weer opnieuw
wie denk je dat je bent en kijkt naar mij terwijl hij slaat,
blijft kijken tot ik roep dat is genoeg stop ze ligt
al opgerold ze doet je niks man stop
maar hij is nog niet uitgepraat en kijkt naar mij en vraagt
wie denk je blijft maar doorgaan in zijn handpalm
woorden maken, dat je bent
houdt niet meer op
© 2012, Ester Naomi Perquin
From: Celinspecties
Publisher: Van Oorschot, Amsterdam
From: Celinspecties
Publisher: Van Oorschot, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Ester Naomi Perquin
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CONVERSATION ON THE STREET
A man speaks, no, he doesn’t speak, he screams into his mobilewho the hell, he takes a breath, he sees me standing there,
who do you think you are
with your so-called manners your rich friends
your completely-booked-up week your good job
his voice breaks the phone open
the woman rolls out over the street, half dressed, mascara
smudged, scrambles to her feet in shock
and he starts again from the top
who do you think you are and watches me while hitting her,
watching until I shout enough stop she’s already
curled up in a ball she’s not hurting you man stop
but he’s not finished yet and watches me and asks
who do you think unrelenting forming words
in the palm of his hand you are
and doesn’t stop again
© 2012, David Colmer
From: Celinspecties
From: Celinspecties
CONVERSATION ON THE STREET
A man speaks, no, he doesn’t speak, he screams into his mobilewho the hell, he takes a breath, he sees me standing there,
who do you think you are
with your so-called manners your rich friends
your completely-booked-up week your good job
his voice breaks the phone open
the woman rolls out over the street, half dressed, mascara
smudged, scrambles to her feet in shock
and he starts again from the top
who do you think you are and watches me while hitting her,
watching until I shout enough stop she’s already
curled up in a ball she’s not hurting you man stop
but he’s not finished yet and watches me and asks
who do you think unrelenting forming words
in the palm of his hand you are
and doesn’t stop again
© 2012, David Colmer
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