28 April 2011


Today's prompt from NaPoWriMo was to pick a poem in a language you don't know and 'translate' it. Look at the words and try to make some sense of them. A fun and interesting exercise. Used Poetry International Web to find a poem.


The habit is steady under a visit

but seek and fault, under water longing

the tank to swim further down

is altered hidden wedge: sameness

the glands from the brook. Our status gone wild
someone your betoken, gone ramming speed
within pasta, gone hook and not right.

Craziness and of stupidity from life and later

will is out to see, to oneself

four leaving all fat overgrown

sheaths sitting on my stool

and their heels going in circles.

- Esther Jansma, The Netherlands

De manier is steeds anders, een vuist

balt zich en valt, uit water lekt langzaam

de kanker van schimmels, maar daarna

is altijd hetzelfde weg: samenhang,

de glans van gebruik. Hier staat geen wand

zichzelf te betekenen, geen raam speelt

voor spiegel, geen hoek is nog recht.

Nutteloosheid is de schoonheid van verval en later

wil ik ook zo zijn, zo vanzelf

door leeftijd als gras overgroeid

scheef zitten in mijn stoel

en daar heel goed in zijn.


The manner is always different, a hand makes
a fist and falls, the cancer of moulds seeps
slowly out from the water, but afterwards
it's always the same that's missing: cohesion,

the shine of use. Here stands no wall
meaning a wall, no window is playing
at being a mirror, no corner is still straight.
Uselessness is the beauty of decay, and later

I, too, want to be like that, so naturally
overgrown by age, like grass,
sitting crooked in my chair
and being very good at that.

No comments:

Post a Comment