Poem
Dirk van Bastelaere
TURQUOISE SHIP
Day has come. But who makes thatTrue? Not the woman with her hand
Beside a light switch. Also in the hall,
Not the red sweater around a body.
What has not ever become untrue?
Until once again, knitted on my sleeve,
The thing frees itself from the thread
And creeps as if it comes sailing on:
Turquoise ship on a red sweater
A wool smokestack and not there.
And that the thread knew where to find me.
Day has come, but without a sound.
Between the nothing
That the day creates
And the nothing after a scream
A small turquoise ship
Of difference.
© Translation: 2005, Kendall Dunkelberg
From: When the Time Comes: A Selection of Contemporary Belgian Prose Poetry
Publisher: Quale Press, Florence, 2001
From: When the Time Comes: A Selection of Contemporary Belgian Prose Poetry
Publisher: Quale Press, Florence, 2001
TURKOOIZEN SCHEEPJE
TURKOOIZEN SCHEEPJE
Het is al dag. Maar wie maakt datWaar? Niet de vrouw met haar hand
Bij een lichtknop. In die gang ook
De rode trui om een lichaam niet.
Wat is niet ooit onklaar geraakt?
Tot dan weer, op mijn mouw gebreid,
Het ding zich uit een draad bevrijdt
Dat kruipt alsof het aan komt varen:
Turkooizen scheepje op een rode trui.
Een wollen schoorsteen en niet daar.
En dat de draad mij wist te vinden.
Het is al dag, maar zonder geluid.
Tussen het niets
Dat de dag maakt
En het niets na een gil
Een klein turkooizen scheepje
Van verschil.
© 1988, Dirk van Bastelaere
From: Pornschlegel en andere gedichten
Publisher: Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam
From: Pornschlegel en andere gedichten
Publisher: Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Dirk van Bastelaere
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TURQUOISE SHIP
Day has come. But who makes thatTrue? Not the woman with her hand
Beside a light switch. Also in the hall,
Not the red sweater around a body.
What has not ever become untrue?
Until once again, knitted on my sleeve,
The thing frees itself from the thread
And creeps as if it comes sailing on:
Turquoise ship on a red sweater
A wool smokestack and not there.
And that the thread knew where to find me.
Day has come, but without a sound.
Between the nothing
That the day creates
And the nothing after a scream
A small turquoise ship
Of difference.
© 2005, Kendall Dunkelberg
From: When the Time Comes: A Selection of Contemporary Belgian Prose Poetry
Publisher: 2001, Quale Press, Florence
From: When the Time Comes: A Selection of Contemporary Belgian Prose Poetry
Publisher: 2001, Quale Press, Florence
TURQUOISE SHIP
Day has come. But who makes thatTrue? Not the woman with her hand
Beside a light switch. Also in the hall,
Not the red sweater around a body.
What has not ever become untrue?
Until once again, knitted on my sleeve,
The thing frees itself from the thread
And creeps as if it comes sailing on:
Turquoise ship on a red sweater
A wool smokestack and not there.
And that the thread knew where to find me.
Day has come, but without a sound.
Between the nothing
That the day creates
And the nothing after a scream
A small turquoise ship
Of difference.
© 2005, Kendall Dunkelberg
From: When the Time Comes: A Selection of Contemporary Belgian Prose Poetry
Publisher: 2001, Quale Press, Florence
From: When the Time Comes: A Selection of Contemporary Belgian Prose Poetry
Publisher: 2001, Quale Press, Florence
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