Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Norbert Hummelt

PAN\'S HOUR

when we found a space to park by the shop to buy some water
and didn’t like the look of the place I remembered what my parents
used to say: I wouldn’t want to have my picture taken here.

we set off across the field you were carrying your camera over
your shoulder and when you stopped at the edge of the woods to
adjust the settings I noticed the shimmer of your light-sensitive skin

as the path wound through the trees the land descended sooner
than we’d expected the kossenblatter see was below us reflecting
back the midday light that was slanting on to it. I mentioned this

and sought your eyes we practised the ancient art of renaming
the things around us on the landing stage the heron stayed
still for just long enough the buzzard was above us beneath the

sky we walked quickly without stopping both determining the
brimstone butterfly and for more than an hour we were simply
there in an hour where neither you nor I had ever been before.

HET UUR VAN PAN

omdat we dicht bij de drankenmarkt stopten en de plek me
weinig lieflijk leek schoten me opnieuw de woorden te
binnen: hier zou ik ook niet geportretteerd willen worden.

we vertrokken een stuk het veld in jij met het fototoestel
over de schouder stopte bij de bosrand om scherp te
stellen ik zag je lichtgevoelige huid toen de weg tussen

de bomen kronkelde sneller dan gedacht helde het land af  
beneden lag het meer van kossenblatt en kaatste het
middaglicht terug dat het ontving. ik wees ernaar

en zocht je blik we trainden ons in de oude kunst de dingen
om ons heen als nieuw te benoemen de reiger op de vlonder
hield zich lang genoeg stil de buizerd was boven ons onder de

hemel we liepen verder zonder te stoppen determineerden
allebei de citroenvlinder en een uur lang was er een
uur daar waar jij noch ik ooit tevoren was geweest.

PANS STUNDE

da wir nah am getränkemarkt hielten u. mir der ort
wenig anmutig schien kam mir das wort wieder neu
in den sinn: hier möchte ich auch nicht abgemalt sein.

wir zogen los ein stück querfeldein du mit der kamera
über der schulter hieltest am waldrand um scharf zu
stellen ich sah deine lichtempfindliche haut als sich

der weg durch die bäume wand ehe wir dachten senkte
sich das land unten lag der kossenblatter see u. warf
das mittagslicht das auf ihn traf zurück. ich wies darauf

u. suchte deinen blick wir übten uns in der alten kunst
die dinge um uns wie neu zu benennen am steg der reiher
hielt lang genug still der bussard war über uns unter dem

himmel wir gingen zügig ohne zu halten bestimmten
beide den zitronenfalter u. eine stunde lang war eine
stunde da wo weder du noch ich vorher gewesen war.
Close

PAN\'S HOUR

when we found a space to park by the shop to buy some water
and didn’t like the look of the place I remembered what my parents
used to say: I wouldn’t want to have my picture taken here.

we set off across the field you were carrying your camera over
your shoulder and when you stopped at the edge of the woods to
adjust the settings I noticed the shimmer of your light-sensitive skin

as the path wound through the trees the land descended sooner
than we’d expected the kossenblatter see was below us reflecting
back the midday light that was slanting on to it. I mentioned this

and sought your eyes we practised the ancient art of renaming
the things around us on the landing stage the heron stayed
still for just long enough the buzzard was above us beneath the

sky we walked quickly without stopping both determining the
brimstone butterfly and for more than an hour we were simply
there in an hour where neither you nor I had ever been before.

PAN\'S HOUR

when we found a space to park by the shop to buy some water
and didn’t like the look of the place I remembered what my parents
used to say: I wouldn’t want to have my picture taken here.

we set off across the field you were carrying your camera over
your shoulder and when you stopped at the edge of the woods to
adjust the settings I noticed the shimmer of your light-sensitive skin

as the path wound through the trees the land descended sooner
than we’d expected the kossenblatter see was below us reflecting
back the midday light that was slanting on to it. I mentioned this

and sought your eyes we practised the ancient art of renaming
the things around us on the landing stage the heron stayed
still for just long enough the buzzard was above us beneath the

sky we walked quickly without stopping both determining the
brimstone butterfly and for more than an hour we were simply
there in an hour where neither you nor I had ever been before.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère