Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Silvia Bre

There are moments

There are moments
I try to stay within my norm
to adhere only to what I see
 
the strictly true, the newspaper, the hands
 
I try tenaciously to abstain.
 
But darkness comes and I go looking
for another
 
the maimed
 
the one who goes around showing himself
only briefly in some dance
the one who sings
 
(I barely know there is something around –
its fears
it seems I need to yield ground
all that I know
it seems it’s like that for everyone:
open your mouth slightly, first,
as the moment just before dying –
 
it’s this human tongue
that takes shape
and struggles against the sorrow it withholds).

There are moments

Sono momenti
provo a restare dentro alla mia norma
ad aderire solo a ciò che vedo
 
lo strettamente vero, il giornale, le mani
 
io tento fortemente di astenermi.
 
Ma cala un buio e vado in cerca
di un altro
 
il mutilato
 
quello che gira solo mostrandosi
per poco in qualche danza
quello che canta
 
(so a malapena che intorno c’è qualcosa –
sono paure
pare io debba cedere terreni
tutto ciò che conosco
pare sia cosí per tutti:
aprire un po’ la bocca, prima,
come appena prima di morire -
 
è questa lingua umana
che si forma
e lotta col dolore che trattiene).
Close

There are moments

There are moments
I try to stay within my norm
to adhere only to what I see
 
the strictly true, the newspaper, the hands
 
I try tenaciously to abstain.
 
But darkness comes and I go looking
for another
 
the maimed
 
the one who goes around showing himself
only briefly in some dance
the one who sings
 
(I barely know there is something around –
its fears
it seems I need to yield ground
all that I know
it seems it’s like that for everyone:
open your mouth slightly, first,
as the moment just before dying –
 
it’s this human tongue
that takes shape
and struggles against the sorrow it withholds).

There are moments

There are moments
I try to stay within my norm
to adhere only to what I see
 
the strictly true, the newspaper, the hands
 
I try tenaciously to abstain.
 
But darkness comes and I go looking
for another
 
the maimed
 
the one who goes around showing himself
only briefly in some dance
the one who sings
 
(I barely know there is something around –
its fears
it seems I need to yield ground
all that I know
it seems it’s like that for everyone:
open your mouth slightly, first,
as the moment just before dying –
 
it’s this human tongue
that takes shape
and struggles against the sorrow it withholds).
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