Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Mustafa Stitou

SPRING

Oh plump young lady with quasi-
dreamy eyes and lively udder,
when you, enthralled by the sun,
just capered so comically,
 
so movingly beside yourself,
you accidentally squashed a
redshank – beak shattered,  
guts on its plumage,
 
a fatal mishap for the bird.
But it did, in a split second,
forgive you – just so you know.
As you too forgive me, my lady,     
 
for settling on you now
for ten or so minutes to drink
of your blood. Or as I too forgive
the shyly flirting farmgirl
 
who just took a swing at me
while I was sunbathing
on my favourite post, half
listening to the tongue-tied farmboy
 
trying to ask her to join him
for a walk around the lake
but trapped more and more irretrievably
in his embarrassment.

LENTE

LENTE

O plompe jongedame met quasi-
dromerige ogen en pronte uier,
toen u in de ban van de zon zojuist
de vreemdste sprongen maakte,
 
zo ontroerend door het dolle heen,
vertrapte u per ongeluk een
tureluurtje – snavel aan gruzelementen,
ingewanden op verenkleed,
 
‘t vogeltje heeft ‘t niet overleefd.
Maar ‘t u wel, in een split second,
vergeven, ‘t is dat u ‘t weet.
Zoals u ook mij vergeeft, dame,
 
dat ik op u neerstrijk nu
om een klein kwartiertje van
uw bloed te drinken. Of zoals ikzelf vergeef,
de schuw flirtende boerendochter
 
die net naar me uithaalde ineens
terwijl ik aan het zonnen was, half
meeluisterend vanaf mijn lievelingspaal
naar de hakkelende boerenzoon
 
die haar probeerde te vragen samen
langs ‘t water een wandeling te maken
maar steeds onherroepelijker in zijn
schaamte steken bleef.
Close

SPRING

Oh plump young lady with quasi-
dreamy eyes and lively udder,
when you, enthralled by the sun,
just capered so comically,
 
so movingly beside yourself,
you accidentally squashed a
redshank – beak shattered,  
guts on its plumage,
 
a fatal mishap for the bird.
But it did, in a split second,
forgive you – just so you know.
As you too forgive me, my lady,     
 
for settling on you now
for ten or so minutes to drink
of your blood. Or as I too forgive
the shyly flirting farmgirl
 
who just took a swing at me
while I was sunbathing
on my favourite post, half
listening to the tongue-tied farmboy
 
trying to ask her to join him
for a walk around the lake
but trapped more and more irretrievably
in his embarrassment.

SPRING

Oh plump young lady with quasi-
dreamy eyes and lively udder,
when you, enthralled by the sun,
just capered so comically,
 
so movingly beside yourself,
you accidentally squashed a
redshank – beak shattered,  
guts on its plumage,
 
a fatal mishap for the bird.
But it did, in a split second,
forgive you – just so you know.
As you too forgive me, my lady,     
 
for settling on you now
for ten or so minutes to drink
of your blood. Or as I too forgive
the shyly flirting farmgirl
 
who just took a swing at me
while I was sunbathing
on my favourite post, half
listening to the tongue-tied farmboy
 
trying to ask her to join him
for a walk around the lake
but trapped more and more irretrievably
in his embarrassment.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère