Poem
Kim Moore
In That Year
In dat jaar
En in dat jaar was mijn lichaam een rookpilaaren konden zelfs zijn handen mij niet houden.
En in dat jaar was mijn geest een lege tafel
en legde hij zijn gedachten neer als schalen van overvloed.
En in dat jaar was mijn hart het oude monument,
de folie en diende het geen enkel doel.
En in dat jaar sprak mijn tong de taal
van insecten en herkende zelfs mijn vader mij niet.
En in dat jaar bleef ik wachten op de paarden
maar schuifelden zij alleen wat met hun poten in het donker.
En in dat jaar had ik een ijdele gedachte;
ik geloofde dat de wereld mij zou komen halen.
En in dat jaar deed ik afstand van alle zaken
die mij beloofd waren en gaf mezelf over aan verdriet.
En daarop liet dat jaar zich vallen als een pad
en bewandelde ik het, bewandelde ik het, ik bewandel het.
© Vertaling: 2015, Willem Groenewegen
In That Year
And in that year my body was a pillar of smokeand even his hands could not hold me.
And in that year my mind was an empty table
and he laid his thoughts down like dishes of plenty.
And in that year my heart was the old monument,
the folly, and no use could be found for it.
And in that year my tongue spoke the language
of insects and not even my father knew me.
And in that year I waited for the horses
but they only shifted their feet in the darkness.
And in that year I imagined a vain thing;
I believed that the world would come for me.
And in that year I gave up on all the things
I was promised and left myself to sadness.
And then that year lay down like a path
and I walked it, I walked it, I walk it.
From: The Art of Falling
Publisher: Seren Books, Bridgend
Publisher: Seren Books, Bridgend
Kim Moore
(United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, 1981)
Kim Moore was born in Leicester and moved to Cumbria in 2004, where she now lives and works as a poet and a peripatetic brass teacher. She won an Eric Gregory Award in 2011, and in 2012, If We Could Speak Like Wolves was a winner in The Poetry Business Pamphlet Competition, chosen by Carol Ann Duffy. Moore won a New Writing North Award in 2014, and her first full collection, The Art of Falling,...
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In That Year
And in that year my body was a pillar of smokeand even his hands could not hold me.
And in that year my mind was an empty table
and he laid his thoughts down like dishes of plenty.
And in that year my heart was the old monument,
the folly, and no use could be found for it.
And in that year my tongue spoke the language
of insects and not even my father knew me.
And in that year I waited for the horses
but they only shifted their feet in the darkness.
And in that year I imagined a vain thing;
I believed that the world would come for me.
And in that year I gave up on all the things
I was promised and left myself to sadness.
And then that year lay down like a path
and I walked it, I walked it, I walk it.
From: The Art of Falling
In That Year
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