Poem
Maria Barnas
NIGHT BOAT
II saw a ship transporting the deepest black
from which something flares up
like a face in a memory.
It is the darkness of the blinded
who swim so long in a cell
that they see colours or find them.
They explore the wall with webbed hands
in search of substance in light.
I make moments out of time
by having my eyes closed and open.
The cargo that trawls through the water
watches over what is to come. Always
earlier than I thought and later the boat
that transports nothing but night glides by.
© Translation: 2018, Donald Gardner
From: Nachtboot
Publisher: Van Oorschot, Amsterdam, 2018
From: Nachtboot
Publisher: Van Oorschot, Amsterdam, 2018
Nachtboot
Nachtboot
IIk zag een schip dat het diepste zwart
vervoert waarin iets opflakkert
als een gezicht in een herinnering.
Het is het donker van verblinden
die zo lang blind zwemmen in een cel
dat zij kleuren zien of vinden.
Met vliezen tasten ze de wand af
op zoek naar substantie in licht.
Ik maak van tijd momenten
door mijn ogen dicht te doen en open.
De vracht die door het water sleept
bewaakt wat nog moet komen. Altijd
eerder dan ik dacht en later vaart
de boot die niets vervoert dan nacht.
© 2018, Maria Barnas
From: Nachtboot
Publisher: Van Oorschot, Amsterdam
From: Nachtboot
Publisher: Van Oorschot, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Maria Barnas
Close
NIGHT BOAT
II saw a ship transporting the deepest black
from which something flares up
like a face in a memory.
It is the darkness of the blinded
who swim so long in a cell
that they see colours or find them.
They explore the wall with webbed hands
in search of substance in light.
I make moments out of time
by having my eyes closed and open.
The cargo that trawls through the water
watches over what is to come. Always
earlier than I thought and later the boat
that transports nothing but night glides by.
© 2018, Donald Gardner
From: Nachtboot
Publisher: 2018, Van Oorschot, Amsterdam
From: Nachtboot
Publisher: 2018, Van Oorschot, Amsterdam
NIGHT BOAT
II saw a ship transporting the deepest black
from which something flares up
like a face in a memory.
It is the darkness of the blinded
who swim so long in a cell
that they see colours or find them.
They explore the wall with webbed hands
in search of substance in light.
I make moments out of time
by having my eyes closed and open.
The cargo that trawls through the water
watches over what is to come. Always
earlier than I thought and later the boat
that transports nothing but night glides by.
© 2018, Donald Gardner
From: Nachtboot
Publisher: 2018, Van Oorschot, Amsterdam
From: Nachtboot
Publisher: 2018, Van Oorschot, Amsterdam
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