Poem
C.O. Jellema
As a garden
Outside all you touch, it had to be,took hold of you, a long expected guest:
you’ve loosened earth to plant in presently,
in soft, prepared earth you lay yourself to rest;
or else you feel the unsupported weight
of fruit upon a branch, as if possessed
through your concern of thoughts of future date,
the tree bears all within its breast:
time became permanence, not flight,
what grows and flowers imagined and dreamt you,
who died on you now mattered not a hoot:
the lawn became your green, the goat your white,
a voice from home: wash hands, come quickly, do,
the blue bowl on the table holds fresh fruit.
© Translation: 1997, Paul Vincent
Als tuin
Als tuin
’t Moest zijn dat buiten wat je hand aanraaktvan jou bezit nam als de reeds verwachte:
je hebt grond om te planten los gemaakt,
je legt jezelf weg plantend in de zachte
gerede aarde; of je voelt hoe zwaar
vruchten een ongestutte tak bevrachten
en om jouw zorg wordt de boom eigenaar
en drager van toekomstige gedachten:
de tijd ging over in bestendigheid,
wat groeit en bloeit bedacht en droomde jou,
en wie jou overleed maakte niet uit:
het grasveld werd je groen, en wit de geit,
werd stem uit huis: kom handen wassen gauw,
op tafel in de blauwe schaal vers fruit.
© 1996, C. O. Jellema
From: Spolia
Publisher: Querido, Amsterdam
From: Spolia
Publisher: Querido, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of C.O. Jellema
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As a garden
Outside all you touch, it had to be,took hold of you, a long expected guest:
you’ve loosened earth to plant in presently,
in soft, prepared earth you lay yourself to rest;
or else you feel the unsupported weight
of fruit upon a branch, as if possessed
through your concern of thoughts of future date,
the tree bears all within its breast:
time became permanence, not flight,
what grows and flowers imagined and dreamt you,
who died on you now mattered not a hoot:
the lawn became your green, the goat your white,
a voice from home: wash hands, come quickly, do,
the blue bowl on the table holds fresh fruit.
© 1997, Paul Vincent
From: Spolia
From: Spolia
As a garden
Outside all you touch, it had to be,took hold of you, a long expected guest:
you’ve loosened earth to plant in presently,
in soft, prepared earth you lay yourself to rest;
or else you feel the unsupported weight
of fruit upon a branch, as if possessed
through your concern of thoughts of future date,
the tree bears all within its breast:
time became permanence, not flight,
what grows and flowers imagined and dreamt you,
who died on you now mattered not a hoot:
the lawn became your green, the goat your white,
a voice from home: wash hands, come quickly, do,
the blue bowl on the table holds fresh fruit.
© 1997, Paul Vincent
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