Poem
Mustafa Stitou
SUMMUM BONUM
At night, in a remote corner of the universe,drunk adolescents reduce a reconstruction
of a prehistoric village to ash.
Soaring temperatures. The furniture emporiums,
deserted. Those who have not fled, neither
to the coast nor a theme park, lay aside
their weapons of a day in their back yards
and lie down, prone yet fearless. The cold
domestic tyrant thaws in his swimming trunks,
observes the twins – no longer annoyed,
astonished by their similarity, sighing, letting
his dream muscle relax, absent-mindedly
closing his eyes. The left twin, the right twin,
hunting insects naked in the shrubs, suppressed
cries of astonishment, all concentration.
Other gardens bring royal roars of laughter,
preschool pop, dogs barking, a radio voice that says
‘the suspect has admitted
shooting a ballpoint pen into his father’s eye
with a crossbow’. With a smile at the ready,
Mum emerges in a bikini, her nerves under control
today unaided, a motionless tray with two glasses of iced tea
and two of green cordial on one flat hand. Already looking
forward to the memories, she startles her hubby
awake with the lightest kiss on his lips – and this time
Dad doesn’t swear but rises beaming from his deck chair,
whispers “you’ve got to hear this” in Mum’s ear,
disappears into the wide-open fortress.
Let fate yo-yo, adversities come and go,
today they’re not afraid of anything, the stay-at-homes,
the peacemakers, the cheerful caricatures – listen,
from the domestic tyrant’s hobby room comes
the sound of a babbling brook.
© Translation: 2013,
SUMMUM BONUM
SUMMUM BONUM
Dronken pubers leggen ’s nachtsin een uithoek van het universum
een nagebootst prehistorisch dorpje in de as.
Tropische temperaturen. De meubelboulevard,
uitgestorven. Wie naar de kust is gevlucht
noch naar een themapark, legt overdag
in zijn achtertuin zijn wapens af
en gaat liggen, languit en onbevreesd.
De kille huistiran in zwembroek ontdooit,
slaat de tweeling gade, niet langer geërgerd,
verbijsterd door hun gelijkenis, ontspant
diepzuchtend zijn droomspier, sluit verstrooid
zijn ogen. De linkertweeling, de rechtertweeling,
naakt naar insecten in struiken op jacht, verbeten
kreetjes van verbazing, onverstoorbaar.
Andere tuinen brengen een soevereine schaterlach,
kleuterpop, hondengeblaf, een radiostem die zegt
‘dat de verdachte heeft gezegd
dat hij zijn vader met een kruisboog een ballpoint
in het oog heeft geschoten’. Goedlachs komt moeder
in bikini uit de keuken, haar zenuwen zonder hulp
de baas vandaag, een roerloos dienblad met twee glazen ijsthee
en twee groene limonade op één vlakke hand. Zich verheugend
op de herinneringen alvast, schrikt ze haar wederhelft
met de zachtste mondkus wakker – en vader vuilbekt niet
ditmaal maar richt zich glunderend uit zijn ligstoel op,
fluistert ‘moet je eens horen’ in moeders oor,
verdwijnt de wijd openstaande vesting in.
Laat het lot maar jojoën, wisselvalligheden komen en gaan,
vandaag zijn zij nergens bang voor, de thuisblijvers,
vredestichters, blijmoedige karikaturen – hoor,
uit de hobbykamer van de huistiran klinkt
het geluid op van een kabbelend beekje.
© 2003, Mustafa Stitou
From: Varkensroze ansichten
Publisher: De Bezige Bij, Amsterdam
From: Varkensroze ansichten
Publisher: De Bezige Bij, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Mustafa Stitou
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SUMMUM BONUM
At night, in a remote corner of the universe,drunk adolescents reduce a reconstruction
of a prehistoric village to ash.
Soaring temperatures. The furniture emporiums,
deserted. Those who have not fled, neither
to the coast nor a theme park, lay aside
their weapons of a day in their back yards
and lie down, prone yet fearless. The cold
domestic tyrant thaws in his swimming trunks,
observes the twins – no longer annoyed,
astonished by their similarity, sighing, letting
his dream muscle relax, absent-mindedly
closing his eyes. The left twin, the right twin,
hunting insects naked in the shrubs, suppressed
cries of astonishment, all concentration.
Other gardens bring royal roars of laughter,
preschool pop, dogs barking, a radio voice that says
‘the suspect has admitted
shooting a ballpoint pen into his father’s eye
with a crossbow’. With a smile at the ready,
Mum emerges in a bikini, her nerves under control
today unaided, a motionless tray with two glasses of iced tea
and two of green cordial on one flat hand. Already looking
forward to the memories, she startles her hubby
awake with the lightest kiss on his lips – and this time
Dad doesn’t swear but rises beaming from his deck chair,
whispers “you’ve got to hear this” in Mum’s ear,
disappears into the wide-open fortress.
Let fate yo-yo, adversities come and go,
today they’re not afraid of anything, the stay-at-homes,
the peacemakers, the cheerful caricatures – listen,
from the domestic tyrant’s hobby room comes
the sound of a babbling brook.
© 2013, Mustafa Stitou
From: Varkensroze ansichten
From: Varkensroze ansichten
SUMMUM BONUM
At night, in a remote corner of the universe,drunk adolescents reduce a reconstruction
of a prehistoric village to ash.
Soaring temperatures. The furniture emporiums,
deserted. Those who have not fled, neither
to the coast nor a theme park, lay aside
their weapons of a day in their back yards
and lie down, prone yet fearless. The cold
domestic tyrant thaws in his swimming trunks,
observes the twins – no longer annoyed,
astonished by their similarity, sighing, letting
his dream muscle relax, absent-mindedly
closing his eyes. The left twin, the right twin,
hunting insects naked in the shrubs, suppressed
cries of astonishment, all concentration.
Other gardens bring royal roars of laughter,
preschool pop, dogs barking, a radio voice that says
‘the suspect has admitted
shooting a ballpoint pen into his father’s eye
with a crossbow’. With a smile at the ready,
Mum emerges in a bikini, her nerves under control
today unaided, a motionless tray with two glasses of iced tea
and two of green cordial on one flat hand. Already looking
forward to the memories, she startles her hubby
awake with the lightest kiss on his lips – and this time
Dad doesn’t swear but rises beaming from his deck chair,
whispers “you’ve got to hear this” in Mum’s ear,
disappears into the wide-open fortress.
Let fate yo-yo, adversities come and go,
today they’re not afraid of anything, the stay-at-homes,
the peacemakers, the cheerful caricatures – listen,
from the domestic tyrant’s hobby room comes
the sound of a babbling brook.
© 2013,
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