Poem
antoine de kom
somewhere in damascus
.
somewhere in damascus
ad 2011: we ate in a light turquoise room
and great was our bath full of blossom foam and maps.
little antelopes walked round. next to the mosque yellowish
carcasses drifted to the waterfall that rushed quite rebelliously. the courtyard
was slippery with blood. soft groaning of a water wheel.
we jostled and shuffled across the main carpet heated by prayer.
when an old man recited his verses (greatly amplified)
the clocks diverged alarmingly far and converged.
we muttered: hafez bashar maher
someone preached that he was loved and made green light shine
from minarets down completely dark embassy avenues, we rang his mobile.
he received us with jambad stories praised the state of siege:
in three months there’ll be peace. according to syrian sources
the number of apostles turns out to be seriously underestimated.
we pointed to infant icons dirty housefronts concrete blocks
the steam train a euphrates of texts in clay. in the hour glasses tickless time.
the council met on transparent chairs. people observed hunting scenes
arranged roses caught small brown doves. they muttered: hafez bashar maher
paul had an angel somewhere and proved rather naughty. he definitely
wanted a rounder mattress and looked shyly at two ladies in ties with a cat
who passed by. they were naked and picking their way through papers
with long sticks. bibs emerged. they shouted: best not try
the wifi! and they repeated: hafez bashar maher
somewhere in damascus
ad 2011: we ate in a light turquoise room
and great was our bath full of blossom foam and maps.
little antelopes walked round. next to the mosque yellowish
carcasses drifted to the waterfall that rushed quite rebelliously. the courtyard
was slippery with blood. soft groaning of a water wheel.
we jostled and shuffled across the main carpet heated by prayer.
when an old man recited his verses (greatly amplified)
the clocks diverged alarmingly far and converged.
we muttered: hafez bashar maher
someone preached that he was loved and made green light shine
from minarets down completely dark embassy avenues, we rang his mobile.
he received us with jambad stories praised the state of siege:
in three months there’ll be peace. according to syrian sources
the number of apostles turns out to be seriously underestimated.
we pointed to infant icons dirty housefronts concrete blocks
the steam train a euphrates of texts in clay. in the hour glasses tickless time.
the council met on transparent chairs. people observed hunting scenes
arranged roses caught small brown doves. they muttered: hafez bashar maher
paul had an angel somewhere and proved rather naughty. he definitely
wanted a rounder mattress and looked shyly at two ladies in ties with a cat
who passed by. they were naked and picking their way through papers
with long sticks. bibs emerged. they shouted: best not try
the wifi! and they repeated: hafez bashar maher
© Translation: 2013, Paul Vincent
ergens in damascus
.
ergens in damascus
a.d. 2011: wij aten in een licht turkooizen zaal
en groot ons bad vol bloesem schuim en plattegronden.
er liepen kleine antilopes rond.naast de moskee dreven gelige
karkassen naar de waterval die vrij opstandig ruiste. het binnenplein
was glad van bloed. zacht kreunen van een waterwiel.
we verdrongen ons en schuifelden over het heetgebeden pleintapijt.
toen een oude man zijn verzen reciteerde (zeer versterkt)
liepen de klokken alarmerend ver uiteen op elkaar in.
we prevelden: hafez bashar maher
iemand predikte dat hij geliefd was en mineretten groen licht
liet stralen langs volkomen duistere ambassadelanen. wij belden zijn nulzes.
hij ontving ons met jambadverhalen roemde de staat van beleg:
met drie maanden is er vrede. volgens syrische bronnen
blijkt het aantal apostelen ernstig onderschat.
wij wezen naar kleutericonen vuile gevels betonbouw
de stroomtrein een eufraat van teksten in klei. in de zandlopers tikloze tijd.
de raad kwam bijeen op doorzichtige stoelen. men stelde jachttaferelen vast
en schikte rozen ving kleine bruine druiven. men prevelde: hafez bashar maher
paulus had ergens een angel en bleek ondeugend. hij wilde beslist
zijn matras iets ronder en keek wat verlegen naar twee gedaste dames met kat
die passeerden. zij waren naakt en zochten hun weg door papieren
met lange stokken. er kwamen slabben tevoorschijn. ze riepen: probeer de wifi
liever niet! en zij herhaalden: hafez bashar maher
ergens in damascus
a.d. 2011: wij aten in een licht turkooizen zaal
en groot ons bad vol bloesem schuim en plattegronden.
er liepen kleine antilopes rond.naast de moskee dreven gelige
karkassen naar de waterval die vrij opstandig ruiste. het binnenplein
was glad van bloed. zacht kreunen van een waterwiel.
we verdrongen ons en schuifelden over het heetgebeden pleintapijt.
toen een oude man zijn verzen reciteerde (zeer versterkt)
liepen de klokken alarmerend ver uiteen op elkaar in.
we prevelden: hafez bashar maher
iemand predikte dat hij geliefd was en mineretten groen licht
liet stralen langs volkomen duistere ambassadelanen. wij belden zijn nulzes.
hij ontving ons met jambadverhalen roemde de staat van beleg:
met drie maanden is er vrede. volgens syrische bronnen
blijkt het aantal apostelen ernstig onderschat.
wij wezen naar kleutericonen vuile gevels betonbouw
de stroomtrein een eufraat van teksten in klei. in de zandlopers tikloze tijd.
de raad kwam bijeen op doorzichtige stoelen. men stelde jachttaferelen vast
en schikte rozen ving kleine bruine druiven. men prevelde: hafez bashar maher
paulus had ergens een angel en bleek ondeugend. hij wilde beslist
zijn matras iets ronder en keek wat verlegen naar twee gedaste dames met kat
die passeerden. zij waren naakt en zochten hun weg door papieren
met lange stokken. er kwamen slabben tevoorschijn. ze riepen: probeer de wifi
liever niet! en zij herhaalden: hafez bashar maher
© 2013, Antoine de Kom
From: ritmisch zonder string
Publisher: Querido, Amsterdam
From: ritmisch zonder string
Publisher: Querido, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of antoine de kom
Close
somewhere in damascus
.
somewhere in damascus
ad 2011: we ate in a light turquoise room
and great was our bath full of blossom foam and maps.
little antelopes walked round. next to the mosque yellowish
carcasses drifted to the waterfall that rushed quite rebelliously. the courtyard
was slippery with blood. soft groaning of a water wheel.
we jostled and shuffled across the main carpet heated by prayer.
when an old man recited his verses (greatly amplified)
the clocks diverged alarmingly far and converged.
we muttered: hafez bashar maher
someone preached that he was loved and made green light shine
from minarets down completely dark embassy avenues, we rang his mobile.
he received us with jambad stories praised the state of siege:
in three months there’ll be peace. according to syrian sources
the number of apostles turns out to be seriously underestimated.
we pointed to infant icons dirty housefronts concrete blocks
the steam train a euphrates of texts in clay. in the hour glasses tickless time.
the council met on transparent chairs. people observed hunting scenes
arranged roses caught small brown doves. they muttered: hafez bashar maher
paul had an angel somewhere and proved rather naughty. he definitely
wanted a rounder mattress and looked shyly at two ladies in ties with a cat
who passed by. they were naked and picking their way through papers
with long sticks. bibs emerged. they shouted: best not try
the wifi! and they repeated: hafez bashar maher
somewhere in damascus
ad 2011: we ate in a light turquoise room
and great was our bath full of blossom foam and maps.
little antelopes walked round. next to the mosque yellowish
carcasses drifted to the waterfall that rushed quite rebelliously. the courtyard
was slippery with blood. soft groaning of a water wheel.
we jostled and shuffled across the main carpet heated by prayer.
when an old man recited his verses (greatly amplified)
the clocks diverged alarmingly far and converged.
we muttered: hafez bashar maher
someone preached that he was loved and made green light shine
from minarets down completely dark embassy avenues, we rang his mobile.
he received us with jambad stories praised the state of siege:
in three months there’ll be peace. according to syrian sources
the number of apostles turns out to be seriously underestimated.
we pointed to infant icons dirty housefronts concrete blocks
the steam train a euphrates of texts in clay. in the hour glasses tickless time.
the council met on transparent chairs. people observed hunting scenes
arranged roses caught small brown doves. they muttered: hafez bashar maher
paul had an angel somewhere and proved rather naughty. he definitely
wanted a rounder mattress and looked shyly at two ladies in ties with a cat
who passed by. they were naked and picking their way through papers
with long sticks. bibs emerged. they shouted: best not try
the wifi! and they repeated: hafez bashar maher
© 2013, Paul Vincent
From: ritmisch zonder string
From: ritmisch zonder string
somewhere in damascus
.
somewhere in damascus
ad 2011: we ate in a light turquoise room
and great was our bath full of blossom foam and maps.
little antelopes walked round. next to the mosque yellowish
carcasses drifted to the waterfall that rushed quite rebelliously. the courtyard
was slippery with blood. soft groaning of a water wheel.
we jostled and shuffled across the main carpet heated by prayer.
when an old man recited his verses (greatly amplified)
the clocks diverged alarmingly far and converged.
we muttered: hafez bashar maher
someone preached that he was loved and made green light shine
from minarets down completely dark embassy avenues, we rang his mobile.
he received us with jambad stories praised the state of siege:
in three months there’ll be peace. according to syrian sources
the number of apostles turns out to be seriously underestimated.
we pointed to infant icons dirty housefronts concrete blocks
the steam train a euphrates of texts in clay. in the hour glasses tickless time.
the council met on transparent chairs. people observed hunting scenes
arranged roses caught small brown doves. they muttered: hafez bashar maher
paul had an angel somewhere and proved rather naughty. he definitely
wanted a rounder mattress and looked shyly at two ladies in ties with a cat
who passed by. they were naked and picking their way through papers
with long sticks. bibs emerged. they shouted: best not try
the wifi! and they repeated: hafez bashar maher
somewhere in damascus
ad 2011: we ate in a light turquoise room
and great was our bath full of blossom foam and maps.
little antelopes walked round. next to the mosque yellowish
carcasses drifted to the waterfall that rushed quite rebelliously. the courtyard
was slippery with blood. soft groaning of a water wheel.
we jostled and shuffled across the main carpet heated by prayer.
when an old man recited his verses (greatly amplified)
the clocks diverged alarmingly far and converged.
we muttered: hafez bashar maher
someone preached that he was loved and made green light shine
from minarets down completely dark embassy avenues, we rang his mobile.
he received us with jambad stories praised the state of siege:
in three months there’ll be peace. according to syrian sources
the number of apostles turns out to be seriously underestimated.
we pointed to infant icons dirty housefronts concrete blocks
the steam train a euphrates of texts in clay. in the hour glasses tickless time.
the council met on transparent chairs. people observed hunting scenes
arranged roses caught small brown doves. they muttered: hafez bashar maher
paul had an angel somewhere and proved rather naughty. he definitely
wanted a rounder mattress and looked shyly at two ladies in ties with a cat
who passed by. they were naked and picking their way through papers
with long sticks. bibs emerged. they shouted: best not try
the wifi! and they repeated: hafez bashar maher
© 2013, Paul Vincent
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