Poem
Menno Wigman
night rest
Evening. Two gardens further up spring is ragingand hijackers are stealing through the dark.
Somewhere nails are scrabbling for fur. Screechings
for crumbs of love. Badly mangled ears.
The randy hostilities of a spring night.
Almost forgotten how I with the selfsame rage
once hunted through the dark, how you still meaner
than a cat sunk your nails into three hearts.
How long ago that is and how lovely you still are.
I’ve counted the days one by one
and with the best words that I have:
I love you. In you I find a bed.
And it is spring and we are sharing here
the same night with all that that entails.
© Translation: 2002, John Irons
nachtrust
nachtrust
Avond. Twee tuinen verder woedt het voorjaaren sluipen kapers door het donker.
Ergens vechten nagels om een vacht. Gekrijs
om kruimels liefde. Stukgebeten oren.
De krolse oorlog van een voorjaarsnacht.
Bijna vergeten hoe ik met dezelfde woede
door het donker joeg, hoe jij nog valser
dan een kat je nagels in drie harten sloeg.
Wat is het lang geleden en wat blijf je mooi.
Ik heb de dagen één voor één geteld
en met de beste woorden die ik heb:
ik hou van je. In jou vind ik een bed.
En het is lente en we delen hier
dezelfde nacht met alles wat dat zegt.
© 2001, Menno Wigman
From: Zwart als kaviaar
Publisher: Prometheus/Bert Bakker, Amsterdam
From: Zwart als kaviaar
Publisher: Prometheus/Bert Bakker, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Menno Wigman
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night rest
Evening. Two gardens further up spring is ragingand hijackers are stealing through the dark.
Somewhere nails are scrabbling for fur. Screechings
for crumbs of love. Badly mangled ears.
The randy hostilities of a spring night.
Almost forgotten how I with the selfsame rage
once hunted through the dark, how you still meaner
than a cat sunk your nails into three hearts.
How long ago that is and how lovely you still are.
I’ve counted the days one by one
and with the best words that I have:
I love you. In you I find a bed.
And it is spring and we are sharing here
the same night with all that that entails.
© 2002, John Irons
From: Zwart als kaviaar
From: Zwart als kaviaar
night rest
Evening. Two gardens further up spring is ragingand hijackers are stealing through the dark.
Somewhere nails are scrabbling for fur. Screechings
for crumbs of love. Badly mangled ears.
The randy hostilities of a spring night.
Almost forgotten how I with the selfsame rage
once hunted through the dark, how you still meaner
than a cat sunk your nails into three hearts.
How long ago that is and how lovely you still are.
I’ve counted the days one by one
and with the best words that I have:
I love you. In you I find a bed.
And it is spring and we are sharing here
the same night with all that that entails.
© 2002, John Irons
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