Poem
John Ashbery
WORDS TO THAT EFFECT
WOORDEN VAN DIE STREKKING
De rit naar het zuiden verliep vlotmaar nadat we waren aangekomen begonnen dingen in het honderd te lopen,
eerst het ene en toen een andere. De dagen
vlogen voorbij als tumbleweed, langzaam dan snel,
dan weer langzaam. De lucht was zoet en zuiver.
Je herinnert je hoe stil het toen was,
een seizoen dat zijn armen in een jas steekt en hem lange,
korte tijd laat openhangen.
In de loop van de week spraken we over ontbossing.
Hoe droevig dat alles veranderen moet,
maar wat een opluchting, ook! Anders zouden we alleen maar
het naar iets uitkijken hebben om naar uit te kijken.
Het moment zou een knop zijn
die nooit tot bloei kwam, alleen volhardde
in een statische roes, voor hij verdween.
We hadden een eindje in onze schoenen gewandeld.
Ik wist zeker dat je je zou herinneren hoe het die andere keer
was geweest, voor de bode aan jouw deur kwam
en naar binnen leek te willen gluren om de boel te taxeren.
Zo werd elke avond een verboden ochtend
van donder en zure melk, hoewel de facturen
werden verstuurd en de vogels neerstreken aan de periferie.
© Vertaling: 2013,
WORDS TO THAT EFFECT
The drive down was smoothbut after we arrived things started to go haywire,
first one thing and then another. The days
scudded past like tumbleweed, slow then fast,
then slow again. The sky was sweet and plain.
You remember how still it was then,
a season putting its arms into a coat and staying unwrapped
for a long, a little time.
It was during the week we talked about deforestation.
How sad that everything has to change,
yet what a relief, too! Otherwise we’d only have
looking forward to look forward to.
The moment would be a bud
that never filled, only persevered
in a static trance, before it came to be no more.
We’d walked a little way in our shoes.
I was sure you’d remember how it had been
the other time, before the messenger came to your door
and seemed to want to peer in and size up the place.
So each evening became a forbidden morning
of thunder and curdled milk, though the invoices
got forwarded and birds settled on the periphery.
© 2012, John Ashbery
From: Quick Question
Publisher: Ecco / Harper Collins, New York
From: Quick Question
Publisher: Ecco / Harper Collins, New York
Poems
Poems of John Ashbery
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WORDS TO THAT EFFECT
The drive down was smoothbut after we arrived things started to go haywire,
first one thing and then another. The days
scudded past like tumbleweed, slow then fast,
then slow again. The sky was sweet and plain.
You remember how still it was then,
a season putting its arms into a coat and staying unwrapped
for a long, a little time.
It was during the week we talked about deforestation.
How sad that everything has to change,
yet what a relief, too! Otherwise we’d only have
looking forward to look forward to.
The moment would be a bud
that never filled, only persevered
in a static trance, before it came to be no more.
We’d walked a little way in our shoes.
I was sure you’d remember how it had been
the other time, before the messenger came to your door
and seemed to want to peer in and size up the place.
So each evening became a forbidden morning
of thunder and curdled milk, though the invoices
got forwarded and birds settled on the periphery.
From: Quick Question
WORDS TO THAT EFFECT
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