POETRY

ierdappels foar loaie froulju

 

yn ‘e kelder steane twa kisten fol

 

nijen tear en noedlik

âlden stoef en flink bepoeiere

 

wrottershannen feie it ljocht oan

skarrelje beret in miel byinoar

 

ûnder de tinst mooglike jaskes

printet in âld krante switterich it nijs

op jierren fan famyljeberjochten en Gurbes

 

tommen snjitterje drûch slyk bûten it bakje

oer de skelk op de grûn mar ach,

sa kreas as by mem wurdt it toch net

 

hast lykweidich

snijt it molemes breklike mearke-linten

leit blauwe plakken iepen

plúzet de eagen út

 

oan ‘e itenstafel dûke se

ien foar ien it brakke wetter yn

 

 

 

potatoes for idle women

 

in the basement there are two crates full

 

new ones tender and troubled

old ones gruff and generously powdered

 

toiling hands sweep the switch

calculate to scrape together a meal

 

under the thinnest of jackets

an old sweaty paper re-prints the news upon

years of personal announcements and cartoons

 

thumbs spatter mud crusts outside the tray

all over the apron and on the floor but hey,

it will never be as tidy as mum’s place anyway

 

nearly parallel

the paring-knife cuts fragile fairytale-ribbons

reveals bruises

gouges out eyes

 

at the dinner table they dive

one by one into the brackish water

 

(Translation: Arjan Hut & Grytsje Schaaf)