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Gedicht

Ivan Malkovych

The Man

He puts on a jester’s mask –
they recognize him.

He dresses in the robe of a merciless judge –
they implore:
“Stop it. As if it’s you.”

He changes into a fox –
they yell:
“We recognized you long ago.
Enough.”

He wraps himself in Don Juan’s cloak –
they laugh:
“Not that style.”

He stretches on a chameleon’s mask –
and tears off that façade himself:

comical
lost man –
he can’t understand
that in every mask
is a slit
for eyes.

THE MAN

Ivan  Malkovych

Ivan Malkovych

(Oekraïne, 1961)

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THE MAN

The Man

He puts on a jester’s mask –
they recognize him.

He dresses in the robe of a merciless judge –
they implore:
“Stop it. As if it’s you.”

He changes into a fox –
they yell:
“We recognized you long ago.
Enough.”

He wraps himself in Don Juan’s cloak –
they laugh:
“Not that style.”

He stretches on a chameleon’s mask –
and tears off that façade himself:

comical
lost man –
he can’t understand
that in every mask
is a slit
for eyes.
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