Poem
John Ashbery
A LINNET
EEN KNEU
Het stak de weg over om me niet te hoeven groeten. ‘Lelijk ding maar uit een goed hart,’ zei ik, ‘zonder gezang zou de dag nooit ophouden.’ Omzichtig naderde het ding. Ik had zo erg te doen met zijn domheid dat enorme tranen begonnen op te wellen in mijn ogen, met een plof op de harde grond vielen. ‘Zo hoef ik niet te worden onthaald,’ zei het, ‘ik was klaar voor je. Alle lieveheersbeestjes en gonzende vliegen en alligators kennen jou en jouw streken. Arme, dwaze stakker. Ga weg en neem je liedje met je mee.’
De nacht was gevallen zonder dat ik er erg in had. Enkele uren moeten voorbij zijn gegaan terwijl ik daar stond, piekerend over het gras en mogelijke antwoorden aan het ongelukkige
schepsel. Een metselaar stond nog bovenaan een ladder dakpannen te repareren, bij het licht van de maan. Maar er was geen maan. Toch kon ik zijn oksels zien, het haar dat er uit golfde, en de knepen van het vak waarmee hij zo geconcentreerd die muur aan het opknappen was.
© Vertaling: 2013,
A LINNET
It crossed the road so as to avoid having to greet me. “Poor thing but mine own,” I said, “without a song the day would never end.” Warily the thing approached. I pitied its stupidity so much that huge tears began to well up in my eyes, falling to the hard ground with a plop. “I don’t need a welcome like that,” it said. “I was ready for you. All the ladybugs and the buzzing flies and the alligators know about you and your tricks. Poor, cheap thing. Go away, and take your song with you.”
Night had fallen without my realizing it. Several hours must have passed while I stood there, mulling the grass and possible replies to the hapless
creature. A mason still stood at the top of a ladder repairing the tiles in a roof, by the light of the moon. But there was no moon. Yet I could see his armpits, hair gushing from them, and the tricks of the trade with which he was so bent on fixing that wall.
© 2000, John Ashbery
From: Your Name Here
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, New York
From: Your Name Here
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, New York
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Poems of John Ashbery
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A LINNET
It crossed the road so as to avoid having to greet me. “Poor thing but mine own,” I said, “without a song the day would never end.” Warily the thing approached. I pitied its stupidity so much that huge tears began to well up in my eyes, falling to the hard ground with a plop. “I don’t need a welcome like that,” it said. “I was ready for you. All the ladybugs and the buzzing flies and the alligators know about you and your tricks. Poor, cheap thing. Go away, and take your song with you.”
Night had fallen without my realizing it. Several hours must have passed while I stood there, mulling the grass and possible replies to the hapless
creature. A mason still stood at the top of a ladder repairing the tiles in a roof, by the light of the moon. But there was no moon. Yet I could see his armpits, hair gushing from them, and the tricks of the trade with which he was so bent on fixing that wall.
From: Your Name Here
A LINNET
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