Poem
Peter Verhelst
waiting for godot 2 (samuel beckett)
While waiting in the lightwe hold two fingers to our throats
to make sure we are alive
because only the living can wait.
Mildly bitter is the woman who will rescue us
from landscapes where we once loved, houses in which
we thought we were happy, a bed with a mirror in which
we slept curled with our backs to each other, clouds of thyme in which
we lay and pondered the loneliest versions of ourselves.
How happy we would have been to live to forget, impressions
without a memory, a landscape without anyone running towards us,
but we live in a world
where everything is what it seems.
I built a tree, a garden,
flat stones for the outline of a house to wait in.
Sometimes, above the asphalt,
the woman quivers in a fountain of reflections.
Every time she doesn’t come, hope remains.
© Translation: 2018, David Colmer
wachten op godot 2 (samuel beckett)
wachten op godot 2 (samuel beckett)
Als we wachten in het lichthouden we twee vingers tegen onze hals
om ons ervan te vergewissen dat we leven
want enkel wie kan leven kan ook wachten.
Mild bitter is de vrouw die ons zal redden
uit landschappen waar we ooit liefhadden, huizen waarin
we dachten gelukkig te zijn, een bed met een spiegel waarin
we opgekruld sliepen met de rug naar elkaar, tijmwolken waarin
we lagen te kauwen op de eenzaamste versie van onszelf.
Wat hadden we graag geleefd om te vergeten, herinneringen
zonder geheugen, landschap waaruit niemand op ons af zou rennen,
maar we leven in een wereld
waar alles is wat het lijkt.
Ik heb een boom gebouwd, een tuin,
met platte stenen de omtrek van een huis om in te wachten.
Boven de asfaltstrook trilt soms de vrouw
in een fontein van spiegelingen.
Telkens als ze niet komt, blijft de hoop.
© 2018, Peter Verhelst
From: Wat ons had kunnen zijn
Publisher: Stichting CPNB,
From: Wat ons had kunnen zijn
Publisher: Stichting CPNB,
Poems
Poems of Peter Verhelst
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waiting for godot 2 (samuel beckett)
While waiting in the lightwe hold two fingers to our throats
to make sure we are alive
because only the living can wait.
Mildly bitter is the woman who will rescue us
from landscapes where we once loved, houses in which
we thought we were happy, a bed with a mirror in which
we slept curled with our backs to each other, clouds of thyme in which
we lay and pondered the loneliest versions of ourselves.
How happy we would have been to live to forget, impressions
without a memory, a landscape without anyone running towards us,
but we live in a world
where everything is what it seems.
I built a tree, a garden,
flat stones for the outline of a house to wait in.
Sometimes, above the asphalt,
the woman quivers in a fountain of reflections.
Every time she doesn’t come, hope remains.
© 2018, David Colmer
From: Wat ons had kunnen zijn
From: Wat ons had kunnen zijn
waiting for godot 2 (samuel beckett)
While waiting in the lightwe hold two fingers to our throats
to make sure we are alive
because only the living can wait.
Mildly bitter is the woman who will rescue us
from landscapes where we once loved, houses in which
we thought we were happy, a bed with a mirror in which
we slept curled with our backs to each other, clouds of thyme in which
we lay and pondered the loneliest versions of ourselves.
How happy we would have been to live to forget, impressions
without a memory, a landscape without anyone running towards us,
but we live in a world
where everything is what it seems.
I built a tree, a garden,
flat stones for the outline of a house to wait in.
Sometimes, above the asphalt,
the woman quivers in a fountain of reflections.
Every time she doesn’t come, hope remains.
© 2018, David Colmer
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