Poem
Anna Enquist
SCHUBERT
What did we do when she was gonefor good? Throats clamped shut,
legs of clay, no air,
no air to be had. We slept poorly
and every word became a wound.
We crept around on unsure feet.
Wanting darkness, but not
a chance of salvation. Schubert
is on the music stand. Your hand
picks up the bow. Rosined white,
it creaks across the string. Lips sealed,
you start to search for her.
© Translation: 2013, David Colmer
SCHUBERT
SCHUBERT
Wat deden wij toen zij voorgoedwas verdwenen? Gesloten strot,
klei in de benen, geen lucht,
nergens lucht. We sliepen slecht
en elk woord werd een wond.
We slopen rond op onvaste voeten.
Liever weggevaagd, maar redding
is niet aan de orde. Schubert
staat op de standaard. Je hand
pakt de strijkstok. Wit geharst
knarst hij over de snaar. Zwijgend
begin je de zoektocht naar haar.
© 2013, Anna Enquist
From: Een kooi van klank
Publisher: Stichting CPNB & Poetry International, Amsterdam
From: Een kooi van klank
Publisher: Stichting CPNB & Poetry International, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Anna Enquist
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SCHUBERT
What did we do when she was gonefor good? Throats clamped shut,
legs of clay, no air,
no air to be had. We slept poorly
and every word became a wound.
We crept around on unsure feet.
Wanting darkness, but not
a chance of salvation. Schubert
is on the music stand. Your hand
picks up the bow. Rosined white,
it creaks across the string. Lips sealed,
you start to search for her.
© 2013, David Colmer
From: Een kooi van klank
From: Een kooi van klank
SCHUBERT
What did we do when she was gonefor good? Throats clamped shut,
legs of clay, no air,
no air to be had. We slept poorly
and every word became a wound.
We crept around on unsure feet.
Wanting darkness, but not
a chance of salvation. Schubert
is on the music stand. Your hand
picks up the bow. Rosined white,
it creaks across the string. Lips sealed,
you start to search for her.
© 2013, David Colmer
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