Poem
Stefaan van den Bremt
Plighted troth of the show-offs
1She would get him, she had sworn,
but it was me she got.
What attracted her about me was words,
early, hesitant, still immature.
What attracted her to me was not me,
not then. (Years later,
when we had hurt each other
enough and the words had knocked
themselves to pulp against hard facts, it was
I who swore that I’d get her.
What attracted me about her were all those
dazzling sparkles in a glance.
What attracted me to her was that
absent and suddenly fierce quality in a single look.)
If you wish to distinguish a star
with the naked eye, you must
look just next to it. I wanted to get her
and I let her loose.
2
I would get her, I bet my shadow,
and I let her loose.
And I lost her, lost her, lost her
almost. Without form and void the place became
where she got lost, still almost uncreated
the twilight world into which she disappeared.
Which God said: “Let there be no more light?”
There was no more light, and it was night.
Wandering earth sought beneath the sky
a new moon that had plunged into its shadow.
Night cannot be looked next to, so
we did not see it. Heavenly bodies repel
each other. Only earthly ones caress
each other’s faults, stroke each other’s spectres.
I was to win that bet, I could not
stand losing.
3
She ran off with my shadow. I clutched for it
and robbed her of hers.
And I did not let go of it, I courted it and made
my appeal to it. Sooner or later
she would probably come back to claim it again,
I would exchange it for her skin
and hair and my existence.
I was pretending to be unabashed, a spectre at my side,
and no one saw how alive and well I
embraced a shadow, and how far off mine had
fled, to where there was no more daylight.
4
And how I deviously, spectre-like
remained at her side. And she at mine,
until it dawned on her that her shadow
would not retreat from the one she imagined
she’d fallen away from. And the further
away she got, the closer
our differences caused us to unite,
as day and night both differ.
And I was dimmed by darkness
and she was dazzled by light.
5
Her I would get, I knew,
as sure as she denied it.
As sure as night denied the day,
as sure as a bird the air.
I would get her hands and feet,
I would get her cheeks and thighs,
I would get her swiftest wing-beat,
I would get her sluggish pubic feathers.
As sure as language denied silence,
as sure as a fish the sea.
6
Each plighted troth would be eternal, but
all oaths are vain. We swore words
and we forswore them. We swore
deviations and the whole world, we swore
feelings into gods, but all the gods
were vain. I allayed
a woman.
Each plighted troth would be noble, but
all that seems noble is vain. I allayed
her. I allayed a spirit and all
devils. I allayed a storm with a stream
of words. She was silent.
7
She would get him, she had sworn,
but where was he?
She sought him and lost her shadow,
she sought him under mine.
She sought a body and embraced a spectre,
clutched at a cloud and it was a rock.
When she recognised him he changed.
What came with the spring tide left with the ebb.
And if the sun shone in the sea, he was
on the night-side of an ocean.
He was a god that could not stay.
She was a woman and would get him,
and she got me. She got the one
who was not enough for her, she got
one of those she did not seek, she found
him where I let myself be found.
© Translation: 2007, John Irons
From: Sirena: poesía, arte y crítica
Publisher: The John Hopkins University Press, Baltimore, 2007
From: Sirena: poesía, arte y crítica
Publisher: The John Hopkins University Press, Baltimore, 2007
Eedverbond der ijdelen
Eedverbond der ijdelen
1Ze zou hém krijgen, had ze gezworen,
maar ze kreeg mij.
Wat haar in me aantrok waren woorden,
die vroege, weifelende, nog onrijpe.
Wat haar naar me toe trok was niet ik,
toen niet. (Jaren later,
toen we ons genoeg aan elkaar hadden
bezeerd en de woorden zich aan harde
feiten beurs hadden gestoten, was ik
het die zwoer dat ik haar zou krijgen.
Wat me in haar aantrok waren al die
schitterlichtjes in een oogopslag.
Wat mij naar haar toe trok was dat
ijle en opeens felle in één blik.)
Als je met het blote oog een ster
scherp wilt onderscheiden, moet je er
net naast kijken. Ik zou haar krijgen
en liet haar los.
2
Ik zou haar krijgen, wedde ik met mijn schaduw,
en liet haar los.
En ik verloor ze, verloor ze, verloor ze
bijna. Woest en leeg werd de plaats waar
zij zoek raakte, nog bijna ongeschapen
de schemerwereld waarin ze verdween.
Welke God sprak: ‘Er zij geen licht meer’?
Er was geen licht meer, en het werd nacht.
Dolende aarde zocht onder de hemel
nieuwe, in wiens schaduw gedoken maan.
Nacht laat niet naast zich kijken, daarom
zagen we hem niet. Hemellichamen stoten
elkaar van zich af. Alleen aardse aaien
elkaars tekort, strelen mekaars schimmen.
Ik zou die weddenschap winnen, ik kon niet
tegen verlies.
3
Zij liep weg met mijn schaduw. Ik greep er nog naar
en roofde de hare.
Die liet ik niet los, ik maakte haar het hof
en mijn beklag. Vroeg of laat
kwam zijzelf wel terug om haar weer op te eisen,
zou ik haar inruilen tegen haar huid
en haar en mijn bestaan.
Ik hield me flink, met een schim aan mijn zijde,
en geen mens die zag hoe ik in levenden lijve
een schaduw omhelsde, en hoe ver weg de mijne
was gelopen, tot waar er geen daglicht meer was.
4
En hoe ik heimelijk, schimmigerwijze
aan haar zijde bleef. En zij aan de mijne,
tot het haar daagde dat haar schaduw
niet zou wijken van wie zij waande
te zijn afgevallen. En hoe verder
weg zij van me was, des te dichter
sloot zich aaneen wat van elkaar
verschilde gelijk dag en nacht.
En mij schemerde het duister,
en haar duizelde het licht
5
Ik zou háár krijgen, wist ik,
zo zeker als zij het weersprak.
Zo zeker als nacht de dag weersprak,
zo zeker als een vogel de lucht.
Ik zou haar handen en haar voeten krijgen,
ik zou haar wangen en haar dijen krijgen,
ik zou haar vlugste vleugelslag krijgen,
ik zou haar trage schaamveren krijgen.
Zo zeker als taal de stilte weersprak,
zo zeker als een vis de zee.
6
Elk eedverbond wil eeuwig zijn, maar alle eden
zijn ijdel. Wij zwoeren woorden
en wij zwoeren ze af. Wij zwoeren
dwalingen en heel de wereld, wij zwoeren
gevoelens tot goden, maar alle goden
waren ijdel. Ik bezwoer
een vrouw.
Elk eedverbond wil edel zijn, maar al wat edel lijkt
is ijdel. Ik bezwoer
haar. Ik bezwoer een geest en alle
duivels. Ik bezwoer een storm met een stroom
van woorden. Zij zweeg.
7
Ze zóu hem krijgen, had ze gezworen,
maar waar was hij?
Zij zocht hem en miste haar schaduw,
zij zocht hem onder de mijne.
Zij zocht een lichaam en omhelsde een schim,
greep naar een wolk en het was een rots.
Als zij hem herkende veranderde hij.
Wat met de springvloed kwam ging bij eb.
En scheen de zon in de zee, híj was
al aan de nachtzijde van een oceaan.
Hij was een god die niet kon blijven.
Zij was een vrouw en zóu hem krijgen,
en ze kreeg mij. Ze kreeg degene
die haar niet genoeg was, ze kreeg
er een die ze niet zocht, ze vond
hem waar ik me liet vinden.
© 2001, Stefaan van den Bremt
From: Stemmen uit het laagland
Publisher: Lannoo/Atlas, Tielt/Amsterdam
From: Stemmen uit het laagland
Publisher: Lannoo/Atlas, Tielt/Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Stefaan van den Bremt
Close
Plighted troth of the show-offs
1She would get him, she had sworn,
but it was me she got.
What attracted her about me was words,
early, hesitant, still immature.
What attracted her to me was not me,
not then. (Years later,
when we had hurt each other
enough and the words had knocked
themselves to pulp against hard facts, it was
I who swore that I’d get her.
What attracted me about her were all those
dazzling sparkles in a glance.
What attracted me to her was that
absent and suddenly fierce quality in a single look.)
If you wish to distinguish a star
with the naked eye, you must
look just next to it. I wanted to get her
and I let her loose.
2
I would get her, I bet my shadow,
and I let her loose.
And I lost her, lost her, lost her
almost. Without form and void the place became
where she got lost, still almost uncreated
the twilight world into which she disappeared.
Which God said: “Let there be no more light?”
There was no more light, and it was night.
Wandering earth sought beneath the sky
a new moon that had plunged into its shadow.
Night cannot be looked next to, so
we did not see it. Heavenly bodies repel
each other. Only earthly ones caress
each other’s faults, stroke each other’s spectres.
I was to win that bet, I could not
stand losing.
3
She ran off with my shadow. I clutched for it
and robbed her of hers.
And I did not let go of it, I courted it and made
my appeal to it. Sooner or later
she would probably come back to claim it again,
I would exchange it for her skin
and hair and my existence.
I was pretending to be unabashed, a spectre at my side,
and no one saw how alive and well I
embraced a shadow, and how far off mine had
fled, to where there was no more daylight.
4
And how I deviously, spectre-like
remained at her side. And she at mine,
until it dawned on her that her shadow
would not retreat from the one she imagined
she’d fallen away from. And the further
away she got, the closer
our differences caused us to unite,
as day and night both differ.
And I was dimmed by darkness
and she was dazzled by light.
5
Her I would get, I knew,
as sure as she denied it.
As sure as night denied the day,
as sure as a bird the air.
I would get her hands and feet,
I would get her cheeks and thighs,
I would get her swiftest wing-beat,
I would get her sluggish pubic feathers.
As sure as language denied silence,
as sure as a fish the sea.
6
Each plighted troth would be eternal, but
all oaths are vain. We swore words
and we forswore them. We swore
deviations and the whole world, we swore
feelings into gods, but all the gods
were vain. I allayed
a woman.
Each plighted troth would be noble, but
all that seems noble is vain. I allayed
her. I allayed a spirit and all
devils. I allayed a storm with a stream
of words. She was silent.
7
She would get him, she had sworn,
but where was he?
She sought him and lost her shadow,
she sought him under mine.
She sought a body and embraced a spectre,
clutched at a cloud and it was a rock.
When she recognised him he changed.
What came with the spring tide left with the ebb.
And if the sun shone in the sea, he was
on the night-side of an ocean.
He was a god that could not stay.
She was a woman and would get him,
and she got me. She got the one
who was not enough for her, she got
one of those she did not seek, she found
him where I let myself be found.
© 2007, John Irons
From: Sirena: poesía, arte y crítica
Publisher: 2007, The John Hopkins University Press, Baltimore
From: Sirena: poesía, arte y crítica
Publisher: 2007, The John Hopkins University Press, Baltimore
Plighted troth of the show-offs
1She would get him, she had sworn,
but it was me she got.
What attracted her about me was words,
early, hesitant, still immature.
What attracted her to me was not me,
not then. (Years later,
when we had hurt each other
enough and the words had knocked
themselves to pulp against hard facts, it was
I who swore that I’d get her.
What attracted me about her were all those
dazzling sparkles in a glance.
What attracted me to her was that
absent and suddenly fierce quality in a single look.)
If you wish to distinguish a star
with the naked eye, you must
look just next to it. I wanted to get her
and I let her loose.
2
I would get her, I bet my shadow,
and I let her loose.
And I lost her, lost her, lost her
almost. Without form and void the place became
where she got lost, still almost uncreated
the twilight world into which she disappeared.
Which God said: “Let there be no more light?”
There was no more light, and it was night.
Wandering earth sought beneath the sky
a new moon that had plunged into its shadow.
Night cannot be looked next to, so
we did not see it. Heavenly bodies repel
each other. Only earthly ones caress
each other’s faults, stroke each other’s spectres.
I was to win that bet, I could not
stand losing.
3
She ran off with my shadow. I clutched for it
and robbed her of hers.
And I did not let go of it, I courted it and made
my appeal to it. Sooner or later
she would probably come back to claim it again,
I would exchange it for her skin
and hair and my existence.
I was pretending to be unabashed, a spectre at my side,
and no one saw how alive and well I
embraced a shadow, and how far off mine had
fled, to where there was no more daylight.
4
And how I deviously, spectre-like
remained at her side. And she at mine,
until it dawned on her that her shadow
would not retreat from the one she imagined
she’d fallen away from. And the further
away she got, the closer
our differences caused us to unite,
as day and night both differ.
And I was dimmed by darkness
and she was dazzled by light.
5
Her I would get, I knew,
as sure as she denied it.
As sure as night denied the day,
as sure as a bird the air.
I would get her hands and feet,
I would get her cheeks and thighs,
I would get her swiftest wing-beat,
I would get her sluggish pubic feathers.
As sure as language denied silence,
as sure as a fish the sea.
6
Each plighted troth would be eternal, but
all oaths are vain. We swore words
and we forswore them. We swore
deviations and the whole world, we swore
feelings into gods, but all the gods
were vain. I allayed
a woman.
Each plighted troth would be noble, but
all that seems noble is vain. I allayed
her. I allayed a spirit and all
devils. I allayed a storm with a stream
of words. She was silent.
7
She would get him, she had sworn,
but where was he?
She sought him and lost her shadow,
she sought him under mine.
She sought a body and embraced a spectre,
clutched at a cloud and it was a rock.
When she recognised him he changed.
What came with the spring tide left with the ebb.
And if the sun shone in the sea, he was
on the night-side of an ocean.
He was a god that could not stay.
She was a woman and would get him,
and she got me. She got the one
who was not enough for her, she got
one of those she did not seek, she found
him where I let myself be found.
© 2007, John Irons
From: Sirena: poesía, arte y crítica
Publisher: 2007, The John Hopkins University Press, Baltimore
From: Sirena: poesía, arte y crítica
Publisher: 2007, The John Hopkins University Press, Baltimore
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