Poem
Luuk Gruwez
SOURDINE
And if there is no longer any tenderness,let us then pretend this tenderness
with blindfold hands and eyes half closed,
lying against each other like a frontier.
A word may then no longer be called a word,
but a mouthful of comforting silence;
and longing no longer the length of an arm,
but further, and more distant than a panoramic view
full of summer birds, music by Mendelssohn, a sfumato
derived from Da Vinci. You will swap your most beautiful pity
for my favourite sorrow; I, carefully taking time
to explore more deeply the fading of your body.
O, if there is then still tenderness,
this tenderness should be dreaded
like a very old wound. So much tenderness
no man could ever stand.
© Translation: 1982, Greta Kilburn & Poetry International
Publisher: Poetry International, Rotterdam, 1982
Publisher: Poetry International, Rotterdam, 1982
Sourdine
Sourdine
En als er geen tederheid meer is,laten wij de tederheid dan veinzen
met geblinddoekte handen en geloken ogen,
liggend aan elkander als een grens.
Een woord mag dan niet langer een woord heten,
maar een mondvol troostvol verzwijgen;
en verlangen niet langer een armslag lang,
maar verder, weidser dan een vergezicht
vol zomervogels, muziek van Mendelssohn, een sfumato
aan Da Vinci ontleend. Jij zult je mooiste medelijden
ruilen met mijn liefste verdriet; ik, voorzichtig talmen
om het tanen van je lichaam dieper af te tasten.
O als er dan nog tederheid is,
laten wij de tederheid vrezen
als een zeer oud zeer. Zoveel tederheid,
daar kon geen mens ooit tegen.
© 1981, Luuk Gruwez
From: Bandeloze gedichten
Publisher: De Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam
From: Bandeloze gedichten
Publisher: De Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Luuk Gruwez
Close
SOURDINE
And if there is no longer any tenderness,let us then pretend this tenderness
with blindfold hands and eyes half closed,
lying against each other like a frontier.
A word may then no longer be called a word,
but a mouthful of comforting silence;
and longing no longer the length of an arm,
but further, and more distant than a panoramic view
full of summer birds, music by Mendelssohn, a sfumato
derived from Da Vinci. You will swap your most beautiful pity
for my favourite sorrow; I, carefully taking time
to explore more deeply the fading of your body.
O, if there is then still tenderness,
this tenderness should be dreaded
like a very old wound. So much tenderness
no man could ever stand.
© 1982, Greta Kilburn & Poetry International
From: Bandeloze gedichten
Publisher: 1982, Poetry International, Rotterdam
From: Bandeloze gedichten
Publisher: 1982, Poetry International, Rotterdam
SOURDINE
And if there is no longer any tenderness,let us then pretend this tenderness
with blindfold hands and eyes half closed,
lying against each other like a frontier.
A word may then no longer be called a word,
but a mouthful of comforting silence;
and longing no longer the length of an arm,
but further, and more distant than a panoramic view
full of summer birds, music by Mendelssohn, a sfumato
derived from Da Vinci. You will swap your most beautiful pity
for my favourite sorrow; I, carefully taking time
to explore more deeply the fading of your body.
O, if there is then still tenderness,
this tenderness should be dreaded
like a very old wound. So much tenderness
no man could ever stand.
© 1982, Greta Kilburn & Poetry International
Publisher: 1982, Poetry International, Rotterdam
Publisher: 1982, Poetry International, Rotterdam
Sponsors
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère