Poem
Marieke Lucas Rijneveld
Scared hares weigh the most
And how that water came that night, we sat freshly washed beside the radio inthe back room, the house suddenly appeared made of cardboard, as though
we had hidden ourselves inside the weekly box of bananas, the roof
tiles chattered. They said: storm moving in from the north. That evening, Grandpa
had driven the cows up onto the dike, not knowing we would later
find them floating like swollen balloons in the water, how we
watched from the stairwell as the carpet rose faster and faster,
everything of value held over our heads: a child, a packet
of Blue Band butter, some jewels. Prayers were heard within houses; fish
made air bubbles under water – whatever happened, God was given
a life jacket in our thoughts. And mud, everywhere mud. The peanuts
we’d eaten beside the radio were now like some of the villagers,
sunk to the bottom; the water was salty and ice-cold, the foam came up
to our navels. Later, when the helicopters shaved low over attics and heads
it became sink or swim, but each time only a few were allowed to be saved,
because, as the soldiers called out: scared hares weigh the most.
© Translation: 2019, Sarah Timmer Harvey
Angsthazen wegen zwaarder
Angsthazen wegen zwaarder
En hoe die nacht het water kwam, wij frisgewassen voor de radio inde achterkamer, het huis leek ineens van bordkarton gemaakt, alsof
we ons in de wekelijkse bananendoos verstopt hadden, de dakpannen
klapperden. Ze zeiden: een storm vanuit het noorden, grootvader die die
avond de koeien de dijk op joeg, niet wetende dat we ze later als op-
geblazen ballonnen drijvend op het water terug zouden vinden, hoe we
vanuit het trapgat het vloerkleed steeds sneller omhoog zagen komen,
wat van waarde was werd boven het hoofd gehouden: een kind, een pakje
Blue Band-boter, wat sieraden. Uit huizen klonken gebeden; vissen die
luchtbelletjes maakten onder water, wat er ook gebeurde, God kreeg een
reddingsvest in onze gedachten. En modder, overal modder. De pinda’s
die we bij de radio hadden gegeten waren nu net als sommige dorps-
bewoners naar de bodem gezakt, het water was zout en ijskoud, het schuim
kwam tot onze navels. Later de helikopters die laag over zolders en hoofden
scheerden, het werd zwemmen of verdrinken, er mochten er steeds maar
een paar mee, want zoals de soldaten riepen: angsthazen wegen zwaarder.
© 2019, Marieke Lucas Rijneveld
From: Fantoommerrie
Publisher: Atlas Contact, 2019
From: Fantoommerrie
Publisher: Atlas Contact, 2019
Marieke Lucas Rijneveld
(The Netherlands, 1991)
Marieke Lucas Rijneveld is considered one of the rising stars in contemporary Dutch literature. In 2015 Rijneveld published Kalfsvlies ('Calf's Caul'), a collection of poetry which was awarded the C. Buddingh’ Prize for best Dutch-language poetry debut, prompting the daily newspaper de Volkskrant to proclaim her the national literary talent of the year. In 2020 she has been awarded the Interna...
Poems
Poems of Marieke Lucas Rijneveld
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Scared hares weigh the most
And how that water came that night, we sat freshly washed beside the radio inthe back room, the house suddenly appeared made of cardboard, as though
we had hidden ourselves inside the weekly box of bananas, the roof
tiles chattered. They said: storm moving in from the north. That evening, Grandpa
had driven the cows up onto the dike, not knowing we would later
find them floating like swollen balloons in the water, how we
watched from the stairwell as the carpet rose faster and faster,
everything of value held over our heads: a child, a packet
of Blue Band butter, some jewels. Prayers were heard within houses; fish
made air bubbles under water – whatever happened, God was given
a life jacket in our thoughts. And mud, everywhere mud. The peanuts
we’d eaten beside the radio were now like some of the villagers,
sunk to the bottom; the water was salty and ice-cold, the foam came up
to our navels. Later, when the helicopters shaved low over attics and heads
it became sink or swim, but each time only a few were allowed to be saved,
because, as the soldiers called out: scared hares weigh the most.
© 2019, Sarah Timmer Harvey
From: Fantoommerrie
From: Fantoommerrie
Scared hares weigh the most
And how that water came that night, we sat freshly washed beside the radio inthe back room, the house suddenly appeared made of cardboard, as though
we had hidden ourselves inside the weekly box of bananas, the roof
tiles chattered. They said: storm moving in from the north. That evening, Grandpa
had driven the cows up onto the dike, not knowing we would later
find them floating like swollen balloons in the water, how we
watched from the stairwell as the carpet rose faster and faster,
everything of value held over our heads: a child, a packet
of Blue Band butter, some jewels. Prayers were heard within houses; fish
made air bubbles under water – whatever happened, God was given
a life jacket in our thoughts. And mud, everywhere mud. The peanuts
we’d eaten beside the radio were now like some of the villagers,
sunk to the bottom; the water was salty and ice-cold, the foam came up
to our navels. Later, when the helicopters shaved low over attics and heads
it became sink or swim, but each time only a few were allowed to be saved,
because, as the soldiers called out: scared hares weigh the most.
© 2019, Sarah Timmer Harvey
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