Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Piet Gerbrandy

IN WHICH THE INDOLENT SEER REVELS IN RENOUNCING

In which the indolent seer revels in renouncing
pleasure rather muses on nothingness than
really relaxes or does something.

In which a flowerbed of white thighs dreamless
abode from before a roses fingering dawn
soothes hand to sleep until goaded rises.

In which turgid cloudwrack praise of apathy
exalts rigor of rut awakes.

In which morning into mouths still tasting
of gin of bad cigars wriggles her leather
tongue inducing nausea.

In which balloons wrinkling on faded garlands
in draught hang dancing our hero
detaches stuck-together little beakers

scoffing bogies vanish into lawns.

Waarin de indolente ziener zwelgt in afstel

Waarin de indolente ziener zwelgt in afstel
van genot liever mijmert over leegte dan
waarlijk uitrust of iets doet.

Waarin een perk van witte dijen droomloos
oord van voor een rozen vingerende dageraad
hand in slaap sust tot geprikkeld rijst.

Waarin gezwollen zwerk lof der lusteloosheid
jubelt rigor van bronst ontslaapt.

Waarin morgen haar lederen tong in
nog naar jenever slechte sigaren staande
bekken wurmt en wee berokkent.

Waarin ballonnen schrompelend aan verschoten
slingers op tocht hangen dansend onze
held verkleefde bekertjes onthecht

mommen schimpend weken in gazonnen.
Close

IN WHICH THE INDOLENT SEER REVELS IN RENOUNCING

In which the indolent seer revels in renouncing
pleasure rather muses on nothingness than
really relaxes or does something.

In which a flowerbed of white thighs dreamless
abode from before a roses fingering dawn
soothes hand to sleep until goaded rises.

In which turgid cloudwrack praise of apathy
exalts rigor of rut awakes.

In which morning into mouths still tasting
of gin of bad cigars wriggles her leather
tongue inducing nausea.

In which balloons wrinkling on faded garlands
in draught hang dancing our hero
detaches stuck-together little beakers

scoffing bogies vanish into lawns.

IN WHICH THE INDOLENT SEER REVELS IN RENOUNCING

In which the indolent seer revels in renouncing
pleasure rather muses on nothingness than
really relaxes or does something.

In which a flowerbed of white thighs dreamless
abode from before a roses fingering dawn
soothes hand to sleep until goaded rises.

In which turgid cloudwrack praise of apathy
exalts rigor of rut awakes.

In which morning into mouths still tasting
of gin of bad cigars wriggles her leather
tongue inducing nausea.

In which balloons wrinkling on faded garlands
in draught hang dancing our hero
detaches stuck-together little beakers

scoffing bogies vanish into lawns.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère