Gedicht
Luuk Gruwez
Fat people
Fat people know everything about love,up to the remotest corners of their body,
the catacombs of their own flesh.
Their belly is the foreign country where they live,
continuously yearning for the slimmest waists
that make their mouths water like pastry.
Nobody is more sincerely sad,
so cheerfully mournful in those distant guts,
those far toes and bulbous buttocks.
As if they just consist of remnants:
less than a hundred kilos nothing
that nobody will ever want.
© Translation: 1991, Ria Leigh-Loohuizen & Poetry International
Publisher: Poetry International, Rotterdam, 1991
Publisher: Poetry International, Rotterdam, 1991
Dikke mensen
Dikke mensen
Dikke mensen weten alles van de liefde,tot in de meest verloren uithoek van hun lijf,
de katakomben van hun vlees.
Hun buik is buitenland waarin zij wonen,
aldoor verlangend naar de slankste tailles
die hen doen watertanden als gebak.
Er is geen mens oprechter droef,
zo goedlachs treurig in die afgelegen balg,
die verre tenen en die bolle billen,
alsof zij slechts uit overschot bestaan:
zo\'n kleine honderd kilo niets
die niemand ooit zal willen.
© 1990, Luuk Gruwez
From: Bandeloze gedichten
Publisher: De Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam
From: Bandeloze gedichten
Publisher: De Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam
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Gedichten van Luuk Gruwez
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Dikke mensen
Dikke mensen weten alles van de liefde,tot in de meest verloren uithoek van hun lijf,
de katakomben van hun vlees.
Hun buik is buitenland waarin zij wonen,
aldoor verlangend naar de slankste tailles
die hen doen watertanden als gebak.
Er is geen mens oprechter droef,
zo goedlachs treurig in die afgelegen balg,
die verre tenen en die bolle billen,
alsof zij slechts uit overschot bestaan:
zo\'n kleine honderd kilo niets
die niemand ooit zal willen.
© 1990, Luuk Gruwez
From: Bandeloze gedichten
Publisher: 1996, De Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam
From: Bandeloze gedichten
Publisher: 1996, De Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam
Fat people
Fat people know everything about love,up to the remotest corners of their body,
the catacombs of their own flesh.
Their belly is the foreign country where they live,
continuously yearning for the slimmest waists
that make their mouths water like pastry.
Nobody is more sincerely sad,
so cheerfully mournful in those distant guts,
those far toes and bulbous buttocks.
As if they just consist of remnants:
less than a hundred kilos nothing
that nobody will ever want.
© 1991, Ria Leigh-Loohuizen & Poetry International
Publisher: 1991, Poetry International, Rotterdam
Publisher: 1991, Poetry International, Rotterdam
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