Poetry International Poetry International
Gedicht

Kunwar Narain

A Betrayal

Pull him out first. Uproot his house
from its foundations
and make it stand on its side like a cot;
    then lift him up
    and place him
    on the closed door.

    He will be bewildered.

Tie his hands behind his back
and a colourful lie on his eyes.

    In all probability
    he won’t say anything.

For a moment
he will even believe
that it is in his best interest.

Now make a noose
with a rope taken from his own well
and place it around his neck like a necklace.

    Like a pitcher in a ritual prayer
    he will not do anything.

Tie the other end of the rope
to the old tree before his house.

    He will offer you his salutations.

Then ask him what he wants.

If he only wants to live in peace in his house
    quietly get up
    and open the door of his house for him.

He’ll writhe in agony.

    But to writhe is not to make a plea.

He’ll soon be dead
    and there’ll be no difference between you and him.

A BETRAYAL

Kunwar  Narain

Kunwar Narain

(India, 1927)

Landen

Ontdek andere dichters en gedichten uit India

Gedichten Dichters

Talen

Ontdek andere dichters en gedichten in het Hindi

Gedichten Dichters
Close

A BETRAYAL

A Betrayal

Pull him out first. Uproot his house
from its foundations
and make it stand on its side like a cot;
    then lift him up
    and place him
    on the closed door.

    He will be bewildered.

Tie his hands behind his back
and a colourful lie on his eyes.

    In all probability
    he won’t say anything.

For a moment
he will even believe
that it is in his best interest.

Now make a noose
with a rope taken from his own well
and place it around his neck like a necklace.

    Like a pitcher in a ritual prayer
    he will not do anything.

Tie the other end of the rope
to the old tree before his house.

    He will offer you his salutations.

Then ask him what he wants.

If he only wants to live in peace in his house
    quietly get up
    and open the door of his house for him.

He’ll writhe in agony.

    But to writhe is not to make a plea.

He’ll soon be dead
    and there’ll be no difference between you and him.
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