Poem
Elke de Rijcke
FROM THE ROAD TO VÄSTERÅS 13
the first part of the road was segmented.we had to go down into a supermarket
where emotions waited in the freezer.
a neon light weighed on my eyelids.
it was sunday and few cars filled the parking lot.
the heat fell over our fatigue and the car blared under our bags.
a large cart drove me through the aisles and I filled the basket.
my daughter dashed and disappeared among the stalls,
defying her babysitter with the dangling arms who
without a coo on her lips and without reaching out her hand
leaned backwards,
whereas with the child one has to lean forward.
I hovered without resignation over my inability to be with
the child and my purchases.
the charges, the surcharges turned about in my chest
and I couldn't manage to get rid of them.
my heart informed me that I no longer knew how take up the gloves
to take the situation in hand.
and in the observation of my incapacity
I had to let myself be traversed
by what was beyond me.
even my voice no longer had the strength to rise or restrain itself.
I whispered to make myself heard
and I was immoderate with respect to my disqualification.
© Translation: 2012, Genji Amino
DE LA ROUTE JUSQU\'À VÄSTERÅS 13
DE LA ROUTE JUSQU\'À VÄSTERÅS 13
la première partie de la route était segmentée.il nous fallait descendre dans un supermarché
où les émotions attendaient au congélateur.
une lumière néonisée pesait sur mes paupières.
il était dimanche et peu de voitures remplissaient le parking.
il faisait chaud sur notre fatigue et la voiture beuglait sous nos bagages.
un grand chariot me conduisait par les rayons et je remplissais la corbeille.
ma fille courait de ses jambes et disparaissait dans les étals,
défiant sa babysit aux mains ballantes qui
d'aucune effusion de lèvres et d'aucune main
penchait en arrière,
alors qu'avec l'enfant il faut pencher vers l'avant.
je planais sans résignation sur mon impuissance à être auprès de
l'enfant et de mes achats.
les charges, les surcharges tournoyaient dans ma poitrine
et je n'arrivais pas à les évacuer.
mon cœur me signifiait que je ne savais plus me munir de gants
pour prendre la situation en main.
et dans le constat de mon incapacité
il fallait que je me laisse traverser
par ce qui me dépassait.
même ma voix n'avait plus la force de s'élever ou de restreindre.
je chuchotais pour me faire entendre
et j'étais sans mesure par rapport à ma disqualification.
© 2012, Elke de Rijcke
From: VÄSTERÅS. DARK PASSAGE. Journal d\'une desémancipation.
Publisher: Le Cormier, Brussels
From: VÄSTERÅS. DARK PASSAGE. Journal d\'une desémancipation.
Publisher: Le Cormier, Brussels
Poems
Poems of Elke de Rijcke
Close
FROM THE ROAD TO VÄSTERÅS 13
the first part of the road was segmented.we had to go down into a supermarket
where emotions waited in the freezer.
a neon light weighed on my eyelids.
it was sunday and few cars filled the parking lot.
the heat fell over our fatigue and the car blared under our bags.
a large cart drove me through the aisles and I filled the basket.
my daughter dashed and disappeared among the stalls,
defying her babysitter with the dangling arms who
without a coo on her lips and without reaching out her hand
leaned backwards,
whereas with the child one has to lean forward.
I hovered without resignation over my inability to be with
the child and my purchases.
the charges, the surcharges turned about in my chest
and I couldn't manage to get rid of them.
my heart informed me that I no longer knew how take up the gloves
to take the situation in hand.
and in the observation of my incapacity
I had to let myself be traversed
by what was beyond me.
even my voice no longer had the strength to rise or restrain itself.
I whispered to make myself heard
and I was immoderate with respect to my disqualification.
© 2012, Genji Amino
From: VÄSTERÅS. DARK PASSAGE. Journal d\'une desémancipation.
From: VÄSTERÅS. DARK PASSAGE. Journal d\'une desémancipation.
FROM THE ROAD TO VÄSTERÅS 13
the first part of the road was segmented.we had to go down into a supermarket
where emotions waited in the freezer.
a neon light weighed on my eyelids.
it was sunday and few cars filled the parking lot.
the heat fell over our fatigue and the car blared under our bags.
a large cart drove me through the aisles and I filled the basket.
my daughter dashed and disappeared among the stalls,
defying her babysitter with the dangling arms who
without a coo on her lips and without reaching out her hand
leaned backwards,
whereas with the child one has to lean forward.
I hovered without resignation over my inability to be with
the child and my purchases.
the charges, the surcharges turned about in my chest
and I couldn't manage to get rid of them.
my heart informed me that I no longer knew how take up the gloves
to take the situation in hand.
and in the observation of my incapacity
I had to let myself be traversed
by what was beyond me.
even my voice no longer had the strength to rise or restrain itself.
I whispered to make myself heard
and I was immoderate with respect to my disqualification.
© 2012, Genji Amino
Sponsors
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère