Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Hans Tentije

IN DUE TIME

Who can say whence and from which past
the 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

METTERTIJD

METTERTIJD

Wie zal zeggen waarvandaan en uit welk verleden
de 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
Close

IN DUE TIME

Who can say whence and from which past
the 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

IN DUE TIME

Who can say whence and from which past
the 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
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Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
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Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
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