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January 28, 2011

Friday Poem

In My Mother's House

in the dismantled house
stripped forever of your breath
I hear your voice one last time
in the herebefore:

“Remco, what are you doing in my house?”

Since I was born
that question’s never left my side –
what was I doing in my mother’s house?

Roaming around your death
I see the sunny travel brochure
still lying in your emptied room
and the boat gliding
through a veil of mist
that we once sailed in together
over the long deep waters of Lake Garda
to see for instance
if in the curiosity cabinet of D’Annunzio’s house
Eleonora Duse had her niche
or whether in some lives
actresses were not doomed for ever
to play the secondary roles
while before the footlights
the man parades
his prompted sorrow
to the applauding claque

but all that’s for later
first there’s the journey
to find something I don’t yet know
with the joyful shouts of children in the schoolyard
always on my mind

seek what you love best
the thing that moves you


by Remco Campert
translation by Donald Gardner, 2007
from I Dreamed in the Cities at Night
Arc Publications, Todmorden, 2007

Huis Op De Weteringschans

in het onttakelde huis
voorgoed van je adem ontdaan
klinkt m van moeder
uit het hiervoormaals
nog één keer je stem:

“Remco, wat doe je in mijn huis?”

vraag die me vergezelde
sinds de a van mijn geboorte
wat deed ik in mijn moeders huis?

ronddwalend in je dood
zie ik dat in je leeggehaalde kamer
nog de zonnige reisgids ligt
en hoe in zachte nevel gehuld
over het lange diepe water van het Gardameer
het bootje gaat
waar we eens op voeren
om bijvoorbeeld te bezien
of in het rariteitenkabinet van D’Annunzio’s huis
Eleonora Duse nog een plaats had
of in sommige levens actrices niet gedoemd waren
altijd de tweede rol te spelen
terwijl op het eerste plan
voor de klakkeloos bewonderende claque
de man praalt
in zijn gesouffleerd verdriet

maar dat alles komt pas later
eerst nu op reis
om iets te vinden dat ik nog niet weet
met altijd in het achterhoofd de vreugde
van de kinderstemmen op het schoolplein

zoek wat je liefhebt
wat je ontroert


by Remoco Campert



Posted by Jim Culleny at 07:19 AM | Permalink

Comments

Something cruel, Jim,(intentially so?) in a poem that has the "joyful shouts of children" so near a reference to Duse. Cruel, even for a poem "about" nation-building.

Posted by: Frances Madeson | Jan 28, 2011 10:07:36 AM

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