Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Ida Börjel

movement, in motion

movement, in motion
in earth words, earths, forsaken
relinquished every eighth minute
to run for your life
where children have played with rubicund
fingers against clavicles
that do not speak do not remain
by the mute faces
shamed was
to scorn with whom
no one speaks; close, close hunkered
in the fishing boat, serried beneath the sun
wads of cash were; to show
signs of life but mute; the highly educated
migrant clients, sold down the river     Zoe
 

beweging, in beweging

beweging, in beweging
in de woorden grond, gronden, verlaten
achtergelaten om de acht minuten
het vluchten voor je leven
waar kinderen speelden met gloeiende
vingers rond neksleutelhangers
die niet spreken die niet wachten
bij de aangezicht-muren
schandvlekkerig bestond
schaam met wie niet
wordt gepraat; bijeengeperst bukkend
in de vissersboot, afgesloten onder de zon
de stapels bankbiljetten bestonden, in leven
zijn maar zonder stem; de hoger opgeleide
gebruikers danseresbelofte      Zoe

rörelse, i rörelse
i orden jorden, jordarna, övergivna
efterlämnade var åttonde minut
att fly för sitt liv
där barnen lekt med glödande
fingrar om halsnycklarna
som inte talar som inte väntar
vid ansiktsväggarna
skamfläckig fanns
skamma med vilken det inte
talas; tätt, tätt hukande
i fiskebåten, slutna under solen
sedelbuntarna fanns; att vara
vid liv men utan röst; de högutbildade
brukarna, dansöslöftet      Zoe

Close

movement, in motion

movement, in motion
in earth words, earths, forsaken
relinquished every eighth minute
to run for your life
where children have played with rubicund
fingers against clavicles
that do not speak do not remain
by the mute faces
shamed was
to scorn with whom
no one speaks; close, close hunkered
in the fishing boat, serried beneath the sun
wads of cash were; to show
signs of life but mute; the highly educated
migrant clients, sold down the river     Zoe
 

movement, in motion

movement, in motion
in earth words, earths, forsaken
relinquished every eighth minute
to run for your life
where children have played with rubicund
fingers against clavicles
that do not speak do not remain
by the mute faces
shamed was
to scorn with whom
no one speaks; close, close hunkered
in the fishing boat, serried beneath the sun
wads of cash were; to show
signs of life but mute; the highly educated
migrant clients, sold down the river     Zoe
 
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