I was convinced I never wrote poetry before last fall. There is something funny about the memory, I had quite forgotten that a long time ago I did also write some (very few) poems, but in Dutch, they (gedichten) were published, some in a magazine called “Viva”, also in the primary school’s paper when I was a primary school kid, and in some books, poetry about pregnancy and this one, published in the book : “Mother, poems about the first woman in your life” published by uitgeverij Michon 1987. Why I completely forgot about them, and even thought I never liked poetry, (I must have?) I don’t know. Life happened, it was over 20 years ago. And I probably didn’t think of them as real poetry. Sins of youth (jeugdzondes) we call them here 🙂 Translated from Dutch:
It is midnight.
Shivering I walk through the strange house.
I feel lost, crying of homesickness,
in the middle of the night.
To be home now for just a moment.
And then: the telephone rings;
a voice out of nowhere.
It is my mother. She says:
“I can’t sleep.
Thinking about you all the time.
Hey, is something wrong?”
Het is middernacht.
Rillend loop ik door het vreemde huis.
Ik voel me verloren, huil van heimwee.
Was ik maar even thuis.
En dan: de telefoon gaat over;
een stem vanuit het niets.
Het is mijn moeder. Ze zegt:
“Ik kan niet slapen.
Ik moet steeds aan je denken.
Zeg, is er iets?”
In the Dutch original there is a sort of rhyme in it 🙂