Poem
Esther Jansma
EVERYTHING IS NEW
What was going to happen was already here,spelt out precisely by a cup which shattered,
shards marked with the prints of thumbs,
the shiver-script of pinsharp twigs.
It is not a tale we made up but something
that was here and is here in the traces of ditches
and postholes and log-fires long gone cold.
It just needed finding, that was all.
Someone had to look at it and say: what is it
this is it, and there it was, a house with a hearth,
people as always and always being themselves
for the first time here and now, sitting
with warm hands which clasp a cup
by the fire and talking and the tick-tick of rain
is a circle of sound and nothing matters, night,
invisible clouds, the silence of everything
that lies asleep or is waiting for day outside
are the roof and the walls round the roof and the corners
of the house that is already old but new
for it is newfound in this now.
© Translation: 2005, Francis R. Jones
ALLES IS NIEUW
ALLES IS NIEUW
Wat zou gebeuren was er altijd al, volmaaktgespeld door een beker die stukviel
scherven waarin de afdrukken van duimen
het rilschrift van naalddunne takjes staan.
Het is geen verhaal dat wij maakten maar iets
wat er was en er is in de sporen van greppels
en staanders en lang gedoofd houtvuur.
Het hoefde alleen maar gevonden te worden.
Iemand moest ernaar kijken en zeggen: wat is het
dit is het, en daar was het, een huis met een haard-
plaats, mensen die daar zoals altijd en altijd
voor het eerst in het nu zichzelf zijn en zitten
met warme handen die een beker vasthouden
bij het vuur en ze praten en de tiktak van regen
is een cirkel geluid en het deert niet, de nacht
de onzichtbare wolken, de stilte van alles
wat buiten in slaap is of wacht op de dag
zijn het dak en de wanden om het dak en de muren
van het huis dat al oud is maar nieuw
want opnieuw in dit heden gevonden.
© 2005, Esther Jansma
From: Alles is nieuw
Publisher: De Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam
From: Alles is nieuw
Publisher: De Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Esther Jansma
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EVERYTHING IS NEW
What was going to happen was already here,spelt out precisely by a cup which shattered,
shards marked with the prints of thumbs,
the shiver-script of pinsharp twigs.
It is not a tale we made up but something
that was here and is here in the traces of ditches
and postholes and log-fires long gone cold.
It just needed finding, that was all.
Someone had to look at it and say: what is it
this is it, and there it was, a house with a hearth,
people as always and always being themselves
for the first time here and now, sitting
with warm hands which clasp a cup
by the fire and talking and the tick-tick of rain
is a circle of sound and nothing matters, night,
invisible clouds, the silence of everything
that lies asleep or is waiting for day outside
are the roof and the walls round the roof and the corners
of the house that is already old but new
for it is newfound in this now.
© 2005, Francis R. Jones
From: Alles is nieuw
From: Alles is nieuw
EVERYTHING IS NEW
What was going to happen was already here,spelt out precisely by a cup which shattered,
shards marked with the prints of thumbs,
the shiver-script of pinsharp twigs.
It is not a tale we made up but something
that was here and is here in the traces of ditches
and postholes and log-fires long gone cold.
It just needed finding, that was all.
Someone had to look at it and say: what is it
this is it, and there it was, a house with a hearth,
people as always and always being themselves
for the first time here and now, sitting
with warm hands which clasp a cup
by the fire and talking and the tick-tick of rain
is a circle of sound and nothing matters, night,
invisible clouds, the silence of everything
that lies asleep or is waiting for day outside
are the roof and the walls round the roof and the corners
of the house that is already old but new
for it is newfound in this now.
© 2005, Francis R. Jones
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