poems

I wrote this comment in Grace's blog on this post 'for love of wrinkled and worn' link here 
good thing we love wrinkled and worn 'cos that's the way of the ageing body, ageing anything really; I often have wrinkly apples lying about the place, they have a way of falling in on themselves until all you're left with is a very light leathery-type wrinkled remnant of an apple, the snails eventually get to them when they find themselves locked up in the studio and their silvery trails are the tell-tale signs of who has dealt the final blow
how beautifully selfsufficient you are for having fixed those glass panes yourself

Grace transformed it into this poem:
Good thing we love wrinkled and worn
cos that's the way of the ageing body,
ageing anything, really;
I often have wrinkly apples
lying about the place
they have a way of falling in on themselves
until all you're left with
is a very light leathery-type remnant of an apple.
The snails eventually get to them
when they find themselves
locked up in the studio and
their silvery trails are the tell-tale signs of
who has dealt the final blow.

How beautifully selfsufficient you are
for having fixed those glass panes
yourself.


voor Femke

hee Femke
fijn om je te zien
hoe is het met je?

(ik houd mijn mond en luister; ook
als ik niet luister, zie ik je wel)


for Femke
hi Femke
good to see you
how are you?

(i keep my mouth shut and listen; even
when i'm not listening, i still see you)







Ouder worden

Je loopt van het aanrecht naar de kast
Je staat daar en weet niet meer waarom
Je ging iets pakken, vermoed je
Je kijkt, hopend dat je zult herkennen wat je zoekt

Je staat weer bij het aanrecht
Je smeert een boterham met pindakaas
Niet omdat je honger hebt, echter
Die pot stond in de kast en je wilde niet met lege handen terug


Growing old

You walk from the counter to the cupboard
You’re standing there and cannot remember why
You suspect you were going to get something
You look, hoping that you will recognize what it is you seek

You’re back at the counter
You’re making a peanut butter sandwich
Not because you’re hungry, however
The pot was in the cupboard and you did not want to return empty handed



wederkerig gedicht

ik zie jou
jij ziet mij
samen
zijn we even blij


reciprocal poem

i see you
you see me
together
we are briefly/equally happy


2 comments:

Nancy said...

ha Saskia
Je translated the poems
Leuk

So the "J" is pronounced like an English "H"? Our written languages look so different...but our hearts speak just the same :)
There's a little phrase for your next card!

Saskia van Herwaarden said...

J is pronounced like English Y in f.e. 'you' or 'yale'

same-spoken hearts;-)