Poem
Maria Barnas
MOTHERS
She holds the tray like the rim of a languishingworld and slowly steps into the light
where she remains still in dark streaming contours
and pours tea. Her body silent amid the flowing.
I watch. She looks at me. Straight into an eye
that instantly withdraws. Shadows
flee over the house that retains me.
Treetops beckon in a wavering forest
with raging clouds above. There is calmness
that gathers as it grows dark and cold.
I wave like a departing mother.
She waves even faster.
© Translation: 2013, Diane Butterman
Moeders
Moeders
Ze houdt het dienblad als rand van een kwijnendewereld vast en stapt langzaam in het licht
waar zij met donkervloeiende contouren blijft staan
en thee schenkt. Haar lichaam verstilt om het stromen.
Ik kijk. Zij kijkt me aan. Recht in een oog
dat zich onmiddellijk terugtrekt. Schaduwen
vluchten over het huis dat mij kan onthouden.
Boomtoppen wenken in een weifelend
woud waarboven wolken razen. Er is kalmte
die toeneemt terwijl het donker wordt en koud.
Ik zwaai als een verlatende moeder.
Zij zwaait nog harder.
© 2013, Maria Barnas
From: Jaja de oerknal
Publisher: De Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam
From: Jaja de oerknal
Publisher: De Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Maria Barnas
Close
MOTHERS
She holds the tray like the rim of a languishingworld and slowly steps into the light
where she remains still in dark streaming contours
and pours tea. Her body silent amid the flowing.
I watch. She looks at me. Straight into an eye
that instantly withdraws. Shadows
flee over the house that retains me.
Treetops beckon in a wavering forest
with raging clouds above. There is calmness
that gathers as it grows dark and cold.
I wave like a departing mother.
She waves even faster.
© 2013, Diane Butterman
From: Jaja de oerknal
From: Jaja de oerknal
MOTHERS
She holds the tray like the rim of a languishingworld and slowly steps into the light
where she remains still in dark streaming contours
and pours tea. Her body silent amid the flowing.
I watch. She looks at me. Straight into an eye
that instantly withdraws. Shadows
flee over the house that retains me.
Treetops beckon in a wavering forest
with raging clouds above. There is calmness
that gathers as it grows dark and cold.
I wave like a departing mother.
She waves even faster.
© 2013, Diane Butterman
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