Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Marion Poschmann

TRANSPARENT

Nostalgia for Eden. Stalin countered with the following slogan:
Let us decorate the homeland with gardens. Let us
completely strip the tree of knowledge. The beautiful wilderness
of the Rominten Moor now good or evil? Flurry from places where
dreams can come true at any moment. In Eden
snow is falling.

Becoming void. Enduring the void. Understanding the void.
No longer wanting to catch God in the act of creating the garden.
Mage and fool. Mountains whittled away. The garden city K.
with its destroyed and reopened forests
is all we can think of when falling asleep. We are
new people.

Travelogue in a pragmatic respect. A park
with no exit, its paths ending at the walls of the rich.
Is this that art that seems at the same time to be nature?
That park full of displaced persons, nostalgia for Eden.
The void and its transgressions. So speak, void, I cannot
see you.

SCHIER HELDER

Heimwee naar Eden. Stalin repliceert met het volgende parool:
laten we onze heimat met tuinen versieren. Laten we
de boom der kennis helemaal oogsten. De mooie woestenij
van de Rominter Heide nu goed of kwaad? Gedwarrel van plekken waar
dromen elk moment werkelijkheid worden. In Eden
valt sneeuw.

Leeg worden. Leegte verdragen. De leegte begrijpen.
God niet meer willen betrappen bij het scheppen van de tuin.
Magus en nar. Afgegraven bergen. De tuinstad K.
met haar vernielde en weer opengestelde bossen
is alles waar we bij het inslapen aan denken. Wij zijn
nieuwe mensen.

Reisverslag in pragmatisch opzicht. Een park
zonder uitgang, de wegen lopen dood op de muren van de rijken.
Is dat de kunst die tegelijk ook natuur lijkt te zijn?
Elk park vol verdreven mensen, heimwee naar Eden.
De leegte en haar overtredingen. Spreek dan, leegte, ik zie
je niet.

SCHIERKLAR

Heimweh nach Eden. Stalin begegnet mit folgender Losung:
Laßt uns die Heimat mit Gärten schmücken. Laßt uns
den Baum der Erkenntnis ganz abernten. Die schöne Öde
der Rominter Heide jetzt gut oder böse? Gestöber von Orten, wo
Träume in jedem Moment zu Wirklichkeit werden. In Eden
fällt Schnee.

Leer werden. Leere ertragen. Die Leere verstehen.
Gott nicht mehr ertappen wollen beim Schaffen des Gartens.
Magus und Narr. Abgetragene Berge. Die Gartenstadt K.
mit ihren zerstörten und wiedereröffneten Wäldern
ist alles, woran wir beim Einschlafen denken. Wir sind
neue Menschen.

Reisebericht in pragmatischer Hinsicht. Ein Park
ohne Ausgang, die Wege enden an Mauern der Reichen.
Ist dies jene Kunst, die zugleich auch Natur zu sein scheint?
Jeder Park voll Vertriebener, Heimweh nach Eden.
Die Leere und ihre Vergehen. So rede, Leere, ich sehe
dich nicht.
Close

TRANSPARENT

Nostalgia for Eden. Stalin countered with the following slogan:
Let us decorate the homeland with gardens. Let us
completely strip the tree of knowledge. The beautiful wilderness
of the Rominten Moor now good or evil? Flurry from places where
dreams can come true at any moment. In Eden
snow is falling.

Becoming void. Enduring the void. Understanding the void.
No longer wanting to catch God in the act of creating the garden.
Mage and fool. Mountains whittled away. The garden city K.
with its destroyed and reopened forests
is all we can think of when falling asleep. We are
new people.

Travelogue in a pragmatic respect. A park
with no exit, its paths ending at the walls of the rich.
Is this that art that seems at the same time to be nature?
That park full of displaced persons, nostalgia for Eden.
The void and its transgressions. So speak, void, I cannot
see you.

TRANSPARENT

Nostalgia for Eden. Stalin countered with the following slogan:
Let us decorate the homeland with gardens. Let us
completely strip the tree of knowledge. The beautiful wilderness
of the Rominten Moor now good or evil? Flurry from places where
dreams can come true at any moment. In Eden
snow is falling.

Becoming void. Enduring the void. Understanding the void.
No longer wanting to catch God in the act of creating the garden.
Mage and fool. Mountains whittled away. The garden city K.
with its destroyed and reopened forests
is all we can think of when falling asleep. We are
new people.

Travelogue in a pragmatic respect. A park
with no exit, its paths ending at the walls of the rich.
Is this that art that seems at the same time to be nature?
That park full of displaced persons, nostalgia for Eden.
The void and its transgressions. So speak, void, I cannot
see you.
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