Poem
Maura Dooley
I’M A STRANGER HERE MYSELF
IK BEN HIER ZELF OOK VREEMD
Wij zijn op zoek naar het station.Boven ons tekenen meeuwen een kaart
die we in het late licht niet kunnen lezen.
Jouw vragen levert ons drie routes op,
vier schouderophalens,
het schudden van een hoofd.
Dan zie je een bord,
dat ons terugvoert naar de Gordiaanse knoop
van de verkeersring rond de stad.
Ik zou hier eeuwig naast je kunnen lopen,
zolang, tot wat wij zoeken zich ontvouwt
in stereometrie,
als richtingbord, van binnenuit verlicht,
dat onberispelijk verschijnt als wij de hoek omgaan,
een wonder in de januari-schemering.
© Vertaling: 1992, Ko Kooman
I’M A STRANGER HERE MYSELF
We are looking for the station.Seagulls draw a map above us
in fading light we cannot read by.
You invite three different sets
of directions, four shrugs,
a shaking of the head
then spot a sign
that only leads us back again
to the crowded ring road’s Gordian knot.
I could walk here beside you for ever,
waiting for our destination
to unfold as solid geometry,
signposted, lit from within,
emerging cleanly as we round the corner,
startling in this January twilight.
© 1992, Maura Dooley
Maura Dooley
(United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, 1957)
Maura Dooley (1957) is of Irish extraction, but was born in the English town of Truro. She grew up in Bristol and has a degree from the University of York. She lives in London at present, where she teaches creative writing at Goldsmiths, University of London. Dooley has published a number of poetry collections, including Explaining Magnetism (1991), Kissing A Bone (1996) and Life Under Water (2...
Poems
Poems of Maura Dooley
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I’M A STRANGER HERE MYSELF
We are looking for the station.Seagulls draw a map above us
in fading light we cannot read by.
You invite three different sets
of directions, four shrugs,
a shaking of the head
then spot a sign
that only leads us back again
to the crowded ring road’s Gordian knot.
I could walk here beside you for ever,
waiting for our destination
to unfold as solid geometry,
signposted, lit from within,
emerging cleanly as we round the corner,
startling in this January twilight.
I’M A STRANGER HERE MYSELF
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