Poem
Ken Babstock
AUTUMN NEWS FROM THE DONKEY SANCTUARY
HERFSTBERICHT VAN DE EZELOPVANG
Cargo heeft het haareen beetje losgegooid en is opgehouden
Plinius de Oudere
het vrijwilligerswerk op te dringen.
’s Zomers was het een en al Plinius de Oudere
Plinius de Oudere, Plinius
de – ze bleef alleen staan
voor wegdistels, ouwe havermout, of om
fladderige kooluiltjes naar
zichzelf terug te spiegelen
vanuit de natte riviersteen van haar goede oog. Odin,
zoals je al weet,
kwam afgelopen mei
ter wereld onder de conifeer, en is vriendjes
geworden met een kraai
die neerstrijkt tussen
zijn trompetlelie-oren, als grove taal die hij niet
zou mogen horen. Zijn moeder
Anu, het rijpaard met
de zachte hoeven uit Killaloe, is gezond en nooit
ver uit de buurt van Loki of Odin.
De omheining,
de ID-chips als nuttige cysten onder de huid
geschoven, de ploeg
een trompe-l’oeil en het vorenrijke
veld, de haverzak van de UNHCR en de strikte
bezoekuren. Deze dingen gedaan
voor staatloze lastdieren,
muilezels en paarden – gedaan uit liefde, in plaats
van claims op doel of recht –
worden gedaan dankzij
uw gulle steun. In uw namen. Veel plezier met de foto.
Heb een veilige winter
buiten de afrastering.
© Vertaling: 2013,
AUTUMN NEWS FROM THE DONKEY SANCTUARY
Cargo has let downher hair a little and stopped pushing
Pliny the Elder on
the volunteer labour.
During summer it was all Pliny the Elder,
Pliny the Elder, Pliny
the — she’d cease only
for Scotch thistle, stale Cheerios, or to reflect
flitty cabbage moths
back at themselves
from the wet river-stone of her good eye. Odin,
as you already know,
was birthed under
the yew tree back in May, and has made
friends with a crow
who perches between
his trumpet-lily ears like bad language he’s not
meant to hear. His mother
Anu, the jennet with
soft hooves from Killaloe, is healthy and never
far from Loki or Odin.
The perimeter fence,
the ID chips like cysts with a function slipped
under the skin, the trompe
l’oeil plough and furrowed
field, the UNHCR feed bag and restricted visiting
hours. These things done
for stateless donkeys,
mules, and hinnies — done in love, in lieu of claims
to purpose or rights —
are done with your
generous help. In your names. Enjoy the photo.
Have a safe winter
outside the enclosure.
© 2011, Ken Babstock
From: Methodist Hatchet
Publisher: House of Anansi Press, Toronto
From: Methodist Hatchet
Publisher: House of Anansi Press, Toronto
Poems
Poems of Ken Babstock
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AUTUMN NEWS FROM THE DONKEY SANCTUARY
Cargo has let downher hair a little and stopped pushing
Pliny the Elder on
the volunteer labour.
During summer it was all Pliny the Elder,
Pliny the Elder, Pliny
the — she’d cease only
for Scotch thistle, stale Cheerios, or to reflect
flitty cabbage moths
back at themselves
from the wet river-stone of her good eye. Odin,
as you already know,
was birthed under
the yew tree back in May, and has made
friends with a crow
who perches between
his trumpet-lily ears like bad language he’s not
meant to hear. His mother
Anu, the jennet with
soft hooves from Killaloe, is healthy and never
far from Loki or Odin.
The perimeter fence,
the ID chips like cysts with a function slipped
under the skin, the trompe
l’oeil plough and furrowed
field, the UNHCR feed bag and restricted visiting
hours. These things done
for stateless donkeys,
mules, and hinnies — done in love, in lieu of claims
to purpose or rights —
are done with your
generous help. In your names. Enjoy the photo.
Have a safe winter
outside the enclosure.
From: Methodist Hatchet
AUTUMN NEWS FROM THE DONKEY SANCTUARY
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