Poem
Thomas Möhlmann
EVERYWHERE PEOPLE ARE ASLEEP
Plumped down where they used to stand,forehead pressed against an arm
face to the ground, breathing quietly.
Above the earth, under warm blankets
under solid roofs, haphazardly
curled up, turned inwards
while the world opens like a hand
while fingers look for other fingers
other fingers other fingers and the fish
rock the sea to sleep and the ships their cargo
and the radio the father and like a soft shawl
the father the mother, the lamps the night.
Why are you keeping watch. Why must
somebody keep watch, somebody be present.
OVERAL SLAPEN DE MENSEN
OVERAL SLAPEN DE MENSEN
Neergevallen waar ze vroeger stondenhet voorhoofd tegen de arm gedrukt
het gezicht naar de grond, rustig ademend.
Boven de aarde, onder warme dekens
onder stevige daken, op goed geluk in
elkaar gekropen, in zichzelf gedraaid
terwijl de wereld zich opent als een hand
terwijl vingers andere vingers zoeken
andere vingers andere vingers en de vissen
wiegen de zee tot rust en de schepen hun vracht
en de radio de vader en als een zachte doek
de vader de moeder, de lampjes de nacht.
Waarom waak je. Waarom moet
iemand waken, iemand aanwezig zijn.
From: Kranen open
Publisher: Prometheus, Amsterdam
Publisher: Prometheus, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Thomas Möhlmann
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EVERYWHERE PEOPLE ARE ASLEEP
Plumped down where they used to stand,forehead pressed against an arm
face to the ground, breathing quietly.
Above the earth, under warm blankets
under solid roofs, haphazardly
curled up, turned inwards
while the world opens like a hand
while fingers look for other fingers
other fingers other fingers and the fish
rock the sea to sleep and the ships their cargo
and the radio the father and like a soft shawl
the father the mother, the lamps the night.
Why are you keeping watch. Why must
somebody keep watch, somebody be present.
From: Kranen open
EVERYWHERE PEOPLE ARE ASLEEP
Plumped down where they used to stand,forehead pressed against an arm
face to the ground, breathing quietly.
Above the earth, under warm blankets
under solid roofs, haphazardly
curled up, turned inwards
while the world opens like a hand
while fingers look for other fingers
other fingers other fingers and the fish
rock the sea to sleep and the ships their cargo
and the radio the father and like a soft shawl
the father the mother, the lamps the night.
Why are you keeping watch. Why must
somebody keep watch, somebody be present.
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