Goaitsen v.d. Vliet/Bert de Haan - Gaasterlandse reis - 2005

English translation below...
Co-productie 'Gaasterlandse reis' gelezen door Goaitsen van der Vliet in juni 2005 ter gelegenheid van het verschijnen van het gezamenlijke boek 'Doordouwers en verhalenbouwers' (Merken gesterkt in Twente). Opname Hein van der Vliet.

Gaasterlandic trip

That day you picked me up
at the house with the high rooms
The air was full of birds
and brass bands blew all over

We drove along the old sea dike
past meadows and past sluices
into a side road
where glowing country girls herded the cows
shiny like mirrors but so black-and-white

On the snapshot you stand
to one side
as a woman of the world
a feast for the eyes
high on your legs
with your golden timepiece
and your lips
soft from oysters
and distant wine

And then
beside you
this faded man
in his wheelchair

But you hugged me and wheeled me
right through it all
Under the burning sun a cool wind blew
I could smell the tar
and hear the gusts of wind
rattling through the nets

On the cliff you stirred my coffee
broke my biscuit into bits
and named the towers
that stood tall
and rigid there
a long long ways away

We laughed about the Friesian horses
who also were so hot
they had their socks rolled down
and pricked up their ears in wonder
at the bell for the train
of a quarter to twelve

At the harbour master's house
you touched up your lips
with that colour soft
of that lovely spot
where I used to come
so gladly

I heard the coins in the bridge keeper's clog
while you quickly bought a postcard
with boats on it and that boulder
on which it can be read
rather be dead than a slave

A few days later
it lay on my table
'crazy about you'
on the back and
those soft-red lips

But there on the dike
we had another drink first
and remembered the Battle of Warns
with an enormous
portion of fries

In the bushes you crouched down low
just so I could see
you sang a dirty little song
while the water gushed onto the grass

Over the wetlands the first flight of geese flew
They smelled of winter on its way
their throats told stories of ice and snow

And outside the dike by the house
with boats and fyke nets on stakes
you fetched us a fine meal of eel

One by one you fed me the slices
you first stroked slow with your tongue
to feel for left-over bones

That was the day I could cope with it all

That I was this seagull
on the short waves
of Lake IJssel

That day that tasted like rye bread and cheese
That day of cormorants in putrid bushes
That day when everything turned blue with smoke of cigars and

When the ferryman had to leave in a hurry
and vanished with the sun 'cross the water
you brought me back then
to the house with the high rooms

You ran your fingers through my hair once more
You softly bit my ear and said -
Next summer I'll wheel you again

Even if you're not there anymore

Then I'll put on my finest bra
and the smallest panties I have

Then I'll think
of your hands
and your mouth

I'll go past the cows
and the water
And when the train follows the old tracks again
and the horses trot to the skyline afar
you will sit there with me

While the geese fly over
and talk of ice and snow
I'll hear your voice

And we'll go on, dead simple

(Thanks to Henri Assen, Ellen van Boggelen, Marian Dolan and Jez Hamblett for helping me with the translation)

Category:

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Tags:

• poezie
• goaitsen
• van
• der
• vliet
• bert
• de
• haan
• gaasterland
• gedicht
• translation
• fries
• frysk
• poetry
• rolstoel
• enschede

[wiecherdinand]

ondertitelen goaitsen

gr:Dinand&Angelique

[goaitsenvandervliet]

Als je iets langer luistert, dan volgt de Nederlandse vertaling van de eerste Friese strofe vanzelf. Een Engelse vertaling staat onder 'Meer info'.

[wiecherdinand]

hey goaitsen?leuk.

[reneevanliefland]

hoe vaker ik het hoor/lees, hoe mooier ik het vind.