Poem
Ester Naomi Perquin
WE’RE ALREADY THERE
It’s really something: a builder who wants to keep building,an architect who draws lines. Entire lives shoot back
and forth over drawing boards and always there’s
a troublesome space, a brick like this or that.
They imagine us in advance too of course: while they sleep
we’re already living in their rooms, papering their walls,
haunting streets – some of us preferring our
trees fully grown – of course they
never imagine us like we are.
In their eyes we often have other names,
patterns of movement, healthy habits,
we appreciate the light, we never buy
floral curtains or small porcelain
figurines to put on
the windowsill.
It’s only when everything is complete that we become estranged
and look, the sun rotates around us perfectly,
we make our own beds
and sleep in them
and wake up here at home: when we
go to make breakfast in the morning
a completely perfect stove grows
under the egg we break.
© Translation: 2013, David Colmer
WIJ ZIJN ER AL
WIJ ZIJN ER AL
Het is me ook wat in de bouwer dat maar door wil bouwenen in de architect dat lijnen trekt: hele levens schieten
heen en weer over bureaus en altijd zit ze wel
een ruimte dwars, een steentje zus of zo.
Ook ons bedenken ze natuurlijk van te voren: als ze slapen
wonen wij al in hun kamers, behangen hun wanden,
spoken door straten – sommige van ons wensen
dan volgroeide bomen – ze denken ons
natuurlijk nooit zoals we zijn.
In hun ogen hebben we vaak toch andere namen,
bewegingspatronen, goede leefgewoonten,
waarderen we het licht, kopen we nooit
gebloemde gordijnen of kleine
porseleinen beeldjes voor
de vensterbank.
Pas als alles om ons af is raken wij ze vreemd en kijk,
de zon draait volmaakt om ons heen, we kennen
ons eigen gewichtige delen van lakens, ons
bed staat gewoon waar we slapen
en zo zijn we hier thuis: als wij ’s ochtends
ontbijt willen maken groeit onder
het ei dat we breken volkomen
volmaakt het fornuis.
© 2011, Ester Naomi Perquin
Poems
Poems of Ester Naomi Perquin
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WE’RE ALREADY THERE
It’s really something: a builder who wants to keep building,an architect who draws lines. Entire lives shoot back
and forth over drawing boards and always there’s
a troublesome space, a brick like this or that.
They imagine us in advance too of course: while they sleep
we’re already living in their rooms, papering their walls,
haunting streets – some of us preferring our
trees fully grown – of course they
never imagine us like we are.
In their eyes we often have other names,
patterns of movement, healthy habits,
we appreciate the light, we never buy
floral curtains or small porcelain
figurines to put on
the windowsill.
It’s only when everything is complete that we become estranged
and look, the sun rotates around us perfectly,
we make our own beds
and sleep in them
and wake up here at home: when we
go to make breakfast in the morning
a completely perfect stove grows
under the egg we break.
© 2013, David Colmer
WE’RE ALREADY THERE
It’s really something: a builder who wants to keep building,an architect who draws lines. Entire lives shoot back
and forth over drawing boards and always there’s
a troublesome space, a brick like this or that.
They imagine us in advance too of course: while they sleep
we’re already living in their rooms, papering their walls,
haunting streets – some of us preferring our
trees fully grown – of course they
never imagine us like we are.
In their eyes we often have other names,
patterns of movement, healthy habits,
we appreciate the light, we never buy
floral curtains or small porcelain
figurines to put on
the windowsill.
It’s only when everything is complete that we become estranged
and look, the sun rotates around us perfectly,
we make our own beds
and sleep in them
and wake up here at home: when we
go to make breakfast in the morning
a completely perfect stove grows
under the egg we break.
© 2013, David Colmer
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