Poem
Hans Tentije
IN DUE TIME
Who can say whence and from which pastthe sounds and smells come wafting by betimes
at night, as though they also had to be
saved outside of you
when those very things that
will stick, have stuck with you
are not just a fluke, god, what are they then?
immeasurable it seemed, the scope of time, the prospect of
promises made, all those scarcely
knowable longings, events
that dented your certainties
you know it, this landscape, that was
sullied on all sides, but still you manage
to refind some familiar spots
beyond a diverted brick road, woods and clear-cut, ripening
brambles, suddenly opens that valley
with its lopsided pinaster pines
where you once lay together –
to unriddle itself, the sensorial, perhaps this is
what memories want
© Translation: 2020, Hans Tentije
METTERTIJD
METTERTIJD
Wie zal zeggen waarvandaan en uit welk verledende geuren en geluiden een enkele keer
's nachts komen overgewaaid, alsof ze ook buiten je om
moesten worden bewaard
wanneer er achter de dingen die je vooral
bij zullen blijven, bijgebleven zijn
niet louter willekeur schuilt, god, wat dan wel?
onmetelijk scheen je de reikwijdte van de tijd, de in het vooruitzicht
gestelde beloften, zoveel nauwelijks
te doorgronden verlangens, gebeurtenissen
die je zekerheden ondergroeven
je kent het, dit landschap dat tot in alle windstreken
werd geschonden, maar moeiteloos
vind je toch sommige vertrouwde plekken terug
na een verlegd stuk klinkerweg, kaalslag en bos, rijpende
bramen opent zich toch opeens weer
die vallei met zijn scheefgegroeide zeedennen
waar jullie ooit samen lagen –
zichzelf, het zinnelijke, weten te ontraadselen, misschien is dat het
wat herinneringen willen
© 2016, Hans Tentije
From: Om en nabij
Publisher: De Harmonie, Amsterdam
From: Om en nabij
Publisher: De Harmonie, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Hans Tentije
Close
IN DUE TIME
Who can say whence and from which pastthe sounds and smells come wafting by betimes
at night, as though they also had to be
saved outside of you
when those very things that
will stick, have stuck with you
are not just a fluke, god, what are they then?
immeasurable it seemed, the scope of time, the prospect of
promises made, all those scarcely
knowable longings, events
that dented your certainties
you know it, this landscape, that was
sullied on all sides, but still you manage
to refind some familiar spots
beyond a diverted brick road, woods and clear-cut, ripening
brambles, suddenly opens that valley
with its lopsided pinaster pines
where you once lay together –
to unriddle itself, the sensorial, perhaps this is
what memories want
© 2020, Hans Tentije
From: Om en nabij
From: Om en nabij
IN DUE TIME
Who can say whence and from which pastthe sounds and smells come wafting by betimes
at night, as though they also had to be
saved outside of you
when those very things that
will stick, have stuck with you
are not just a fluke, god, what are they then?
immeasurable it seemed, the scope of time, the prospect of
promises made, all those scarcely
knowable longings, events
that dented your certainties
you know it, this landscape, that was
sullied on all sides, but still you manage
to refind some familiar spots
beyond a diverted brick road, woods and clear-cut, ripening
brambles, suddenly opens that valley
with its lopsided pinaster pines
where you once lay together –
to unriddle itself, the sensorial, perhaps this is
what memories want
© 2020, Hans Tentije
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