Ester Naomi Perquin
MINOR UNNOTICED EVENT
An old man, sloping forward in his raincoat, leathery brown skin,
weathered like a worn-out couch, the last remaining version
of a mind that’s been wiped and rewritten over and over
again, thinking in a language he no longer speaks,
still in possession of who he was and what he did,
the screaming killer with the rifle, the drunk giant
who shot at the school bus, the looter who broke women,
the general who gave orders, the refugee,
the stammering idiot with his stolen idiom,
the hesitant ruined man, grown soft,
bends slowly on his clapped-out knees, straining to keep
his balance, leaning on the great nothing that in the end
provides support, and picks a cap up off the ground.
LOVE, in glittering letters. The face of Mickey Mouse,
who he recognises. The man brushes a leaf
off the visor, hangs the cap on the fence
of the park with the weeping willow
and looks at it from a distance.
This is findable, he thinks. This is findable.
Today I’ve done something good.
Publisher: First publication on poetryinternational.com, , 2023
KLEINE, ONOPGEMERKTE GEBEURTENIS
KLEINE, ONOPGEMERKTE GEBEURTENIS
Een oude man, vooroverhangend in zijn regenjas, de bruine huid
verweerd als een stukgezeten leren bank, de laatst overgebleven
versie van een steeds weer overschreven geest, denkend
in een taal die hij niet langer spreekt,
nog altijd in bezit van wie hij is geweest en wie hij heeft gedood,
de schreeuwende, ver weg, met het geweer, de dronken reus
die op de schoolbus schoot, de plunderaar die vrouwen brak,
de generaal die orders gaf, de vluchteling, de hakkelende idioot
met zijn gestolen idioom, de aarzelend bewegende,
zacht geworden, grondgerichte man
bukt vanwege zwakke knieën uiterst traag, huiverend in gespannen
evenwicht, leunend op het grote niets dat op den duur toch
houvast biedt, en raapt een petje van de grond.
LOVE, in glitterletters. Het gezicht van Mickey Mouse,
dat hij herkent. De man veegt een blaadje van de klep,
hangt de pet over een hek, naast het plantsoen
waar de treurwilg staat, en kijkt er
van een afstand naar.
Dit is vindbaar, denkt hij. Dit is vindbaar.
Vandaag heb ik iets goed gedaan.
From: Ongevraagd Advies
Publisher: Uitgeverij Van Oorschot, Amsterdam
MINOR UNNOTICED EVENT
An old man, sloping forward in his raincoat, leathery brown skin,
weathered like a worn-out couch, the last remaining version
of a mind that’s been wiped and rewritten over and over
again, thinking in a language he no longer speaks,
still in possession of who he was and what he did,
the screaming killer with the rifle, the drunk giant
who shot at the school bus, the looter who broke women,
the general who gave orders, the refugee,
the stammering idiot with his stolen idiom,
the hesitant ruined man, grown soft,
bends slowly on his clapped-out knees, straining to keep
his balance, leaning on the great nothing that in the end
provides support, and picks a cap up off the ground.
LOVE, in glittering letters. The face of Mickey Mouse,
who he recognises. The man brushes a leaf
off the visor, hangs the cap on the fence
of the park with the weeping willow
and looks at it from a distance.
This is findable, he thinks. This is findable.
Today I’ve done something good.
From: Ongevraagd Advies
Publisher: 2023, First publication on poetryinternational.com, Amsterdam
MINOR UNNOTICED EVENT
An old man, sloping forward in his raincoat, leathery brown skin,
weathered like a worn-out couch, the last remaining version
of a mind that’s been wiped and rewritten over and over
again, thinking in a language he no longer speaks,
still in possession of who he was and what he did,
the screaming killer with the rifle, the drunk giant
who shot at the school bus, the looter who broke women,
the general who gave orders, the refugee,
the stammering idiot with his stolen idiom,
the hesitant ruined man, grown soft,
bends slowly on his clapped-out knees, straining to keep
his balance, leaning on the great nothing that in the end
provides support, and picks a cap up off the ground.
LOVE, in glittering letters. The face of Mickey Mouse,
who he recognises. The man brushes a leaf
off the visor, hangs the cap on the fence
of the park with the weeping willow
and looks at it from a distance.
This is findable, he thinks. This is findable.
Today I’ve done something good.
Publisher: 2023, First publication on poetryinternational.com,