Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Elke Erb

(WHAT IS SHE DOING NOW?)

She writes. Writes.
Something tormented her. But not so
that the wind could
get at it.
 
Secretive wind. Under the eyes.
She stares.
 
As a rabbit hutch stares, as its cages,
as doric columns plus tympani
stare. Down below hay.
 
But writes lilac.
In drifting clouds.
 
Lilac in drifting clouds.
 
Small floating clouds.                                     
Gathered they float off.
Ah how the top of the pear tree paws them.
This is
 
observed togetherness.
She also knew the corner of the house.
The corner of the house knew itself.
 
The corner knew exactly, without                                         
being asked, what it represents.

(WAT DOET ZE NU?)

Ze schrijft. Schrijft.
Iets heeft haar pijn gedaan. Maar niet zo
dat de wind komen kan
daar aan.

Geheime wind. Onder de ogen.
Zo kijkt ze.

Zoals de konijnenstal kijkt, zijn kooien.
De Dorische zuilen, met timpaan,
kijken. Onderaan hooi.

Maar schrijft sering.
In trekkende wolken.

Sering in trekkende wolken.

Kleine zwevende wolkjes.
Bijeengeveegd zweven ze weg.
Ach de kruin van de perenboom klauwt.
Dit is een

geziene gezamenlijkheid.
Ze wist de hoek van het huis ook.
De hoek van het huis wist zich zelf.

De hoek van het huis wist exact wat hij zelf
ongevraagd voorstelt.

(WAS TUT SIE JETZT?)

Sie schreibt. Schreibt.
Etwas hat sie gequält. Aber nicht so,
daß der Wind kommen kann
an es.
 
Geheimer Wind. Unter den Augen.
So schaut sie.
 
Wie der Kaninchenstall schaut, seine Fächer.
Die dorischen Säulen, plus Tympanon,
schaun. Unten Heu.
 
Schreibt aber Flieder.
Im Gang der Wolken.
 
Flieder im Gang der Wolken.
 
Kleine ziehende Wölkchen.
Zusammengekehrt ziehn sie ab.
Ach der Wipfel des Birnbaums tatzt.
Dies ist ein
 
gesehenes Miteinander.
Sie wußte die Hausecke auch.
Die Hausecke wußte sich selbst.
 
Die Hausecke wußte exakt, was sie selbst
ungefragt darstellt.
Close

(WHAT IS SHE DOING NOW?)

She writes. Writes.
Something tormented her. But not so
that the wind could
get at it.
 
Secretive wind. Under the eyes.
She stares.
 
As a rabbit hutch stares, as its cages,
as doric columns plus tympani
stare. Down below hay.
 
But writes lilac.
In drifting clouds.
 
Lilac in drifting clouds.
 
Small floating clouds.                                     
Gathered they float off.
Ah how the top of the pear tree paws them.
This is
 
observed togetherness.
She also knew the corner of the house.
The corner of the house knew itself.
 
The corner knew exactly, without                                         
being asked, what it represents.

(WHAT IS SHE DOING NOW?)

She writes. Writes.
Something tormented her. But not so
that the wind could
get at it.
 
Secretive wind. Under the eyes.
She stares.
 
As a rabbit hutch stares, as its cages,
as doric columns plus tympani
stare. Down below hay.
 
But writes lilac.
In drifting clouds.
 
Lilac in drifting clouds.
 
Small floating clouds.                                     
Gathered they float off.
Ah how the top of the pear tree paws them.
This is
 
observed togetherness.
She also knew the corner of the house.
The corner of the house knew itself.
 
The corner knew exactly, without                                         
being asked, what it represents.
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