Poem
C.O. Jellema
Why not, body?
Why, body, had you no self-beliefin the days of your youth, finally you are
a shape in this form and you'll cease
to be soon – why not? Did
the mind mislead you as though wonders
of higher virtue, of truth lay in wait?
And you always wanted to be someone else.
Now it will soon be night in us. And you?
Will you do anything to help me through?
Body, I never trusted you,
never gave credence to your needs,
you were mine and that was that. I thought
I was where there would be no future,
dawdling in deeds of invention, review.
And you’re here and busy with your dying.
You remember, body, where you still feel the grooves
of oak planks when sitting on that bridge,
as children, on long summer evenings
above the stream saw the sluggish water
full of mysterious life, weeds, fishes,
our own reflection, and I thoughtless,
was unaware of you, simply submerged in
a freedom to be nothing but thus?
Just to look and hear the calm snuffling
of grazers in the fields, close by –
That balance, you were not yet there then
as now, still unannounced, still silent in yourself –
We're passing, though I do not want to go,
body, you’ll be the death of me yet if
you do not surrender the images you bear in you
to me – but I , who am I without you?
I'll be good as gold if you’ll just listen.
Why, body, did I never extol you?
© Translation: 1997, Paul Vincent
Waarom niet, lichaam?
Waarom niet, lichaam?
Waarom niet, lichaam, heb je in jezelf geloofdde dagen van je jeugd, je bent ten laatste
gedaante in deze vorm en je houdt op
te zijn straks – waarom niet? Heeft jou
de geest misleid alsof er wonderen
van hoger deugd, van waarheid waren te verwachten?
En jij wou steeds ook iemand anders zijn.
Nu wordt het dadelijk nacht in ons. En jij?
Doe je wat voor me om me er door heen te helpen?
Lichaam, nooit heb ik je vertrouwd,
niet aan je noden ooit geloof geschonken,
je was van mij en daarmee uit. Ik dacht
te zijn in wat geen toekomst worden wou,
dralend in daden van bedenking, overzicht.
En jij bent hier en bezig aan je sterven.
Je weet toch, lichaam, waar je nog de groeven voelt
van eiken planken toen we zittend op die brug,
we waren kind, op lange zomeravonden
boven de stroom het trage water vol
van geheimzinnig leven zagen, wieren, vissen,
ons eigen spiegelbeeld, en ik gedachtenloos
jou niet besefte, enkel opging in
een vrijheid niets te hoeven zijn dan zo?
Alleen te kijken en het rustige gesnuif
te horen in de wei van grazenden, vlakbij –
Dat evenwicht, jij was er toen nog niet
als nu, nog ongemeld, nog zwijgend in jezelf
Wij gaan voorbij, terwijl ik dat niet wil,
lichaam, je zult mijn dood nog zijn wanneer
je niet de beelden die je meedraagt in je
afstaat aan mij – maar ik, wie ben ik zonder jou?
Je hebt geen kind aan mij zolang je luistert.
Waarom, lichaam, heb ik jou nooit geprezen?
© 1997, C. O. Jellema
Poems
Poems of C.O. Jellema
Close
Why not, body?
Why, body, had you no self-beliefin the days of your youth, finally you are
a shape in this form and you'll cease
to be soon – why not? Did
the mind mislead you as though wonders
of higher virtue, of truth lay in wait?
And you always wanted to be someone else.
Now it will soon be night in us. And you?
Will you do anything to help me through?
Body, I never trusted you,
never gave credence to your needs,
you were mine and that was that. I thought
I was where there would be no future,
dawdling in deeds of invention, review.
And you’re here and busy with your dying.
You remember, body, where you still feel the grooves
of oak planks when sitting on that bridge,
as children, on long summer evenings
above the stream saw the sluggish water
full of mysterious life, weeds, fishes,
our own reflection, and I thoughtless,
was unaware of you, simply submerged in
a freedom to be nothing but thus?
Just to look and hear the calm snuffling
of grazers in the fields, close by –
That balance, you were not yet there then
as now, still unannounced, still silent in yourself –
We're passing, though I do not want to go,
body, you’ll be the death of me yet if
you do not surrender the images you bear in you
to me – but I , who am I without you?
I'll be good as gold if you’ll just listen.
Why, body, did I never extol you?
© 1997, Paul Vincent
Why not, body?
Why, body, had you no self-beliefin the days of your youth, finally you are
a shape in this form and you'll cease
to be soon – why not? Did
the mind mislead you as though wonders
of higher virtue, of truth lay in wait?
And you always wanted to be someone else.
Now it will soon be night in us. And you?
Will you do anything to help me through?
Body, I never trusted you,
never gave credence to your needs,
you were mine and that was that. I thought
I was where there would be no future,
dawdling in deeds of invention, review.
And you’re here and busy with your dying.
You remember, body, where you still feel the grooves
of oak planks when sitting on that bridge,
as children, on long summer evenings
above the stream saw the sluggish water
full of mysterious life, weeds, fishes,
our own reflection, and I thoughtless,
was unaware of you, simply submerged in
a freedom to be nothing but thus?
Just to look and hear the calm snuffling
of grazers in the fields, close by –
That balance, you were not yet there then
as now, still unannounced, still silent in yourself –
We're passing, though I do not want to go,
body, you’ll be the death of me yet if
you do not surrender the images you bear in you
to me – but I , who am I without you?
I'll be good as gold if you’ll just listen.
Why, body, did I never extol you?
© 1997, Paul Vincent
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