Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Maria Barnas

THE HANDS OF THE CLOCK IN HIROSHIMA

They stand on the tower to watch
a horse being dragged to the water.

Where do you bury the dead? They point at the creature
and later they shake it from their fingertips.

Sixty years ago they stopped moving.

The photo the explosion made wiped out everything
except the shadows of those who kept staring.

We have gained a city.
Everything is gleaming and dust-proof.

We have stared at the hands on the tower.
They didn’t blink.

We have shaken the bells.
We asked the man who sets them right who

was this done by. Who has done this.

The horse leads history.
They say it has pranced since it refused to shrink.

DE WIJZERS VAN HIROSHIMA

DE WIJZERS VAN HIROSHIMA

Ze staan op de toren om te zien
hoe een paard naar het water wordt gesleept.

Waar begraaf je de dood? Ze wijzen naar het dier
en schudden het later van de vingertoppen.

Ze staan er al zestig jaar stil.

De foto die de explosie maakte wiste alles
behalve de schaduw van wie er bleven staren.

We hebben er een stad gewonnen.
Alles blinkt er en is stofvrij.

Wij hebben naar de wijzers van de toren gestaard.
Ze knipperden niet.

We hebben geschud met de klokken.
We vroegen de man die ze gelijk zet wie

dit heeft gedaan. Wie heeft dit gedaan.

Het paard sleept geschiedenis aan.
Ze zeggen het steigert sinds het weigert te slinken
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THE HANDS OF THE CLOCK IN HIROSHIMA

They stand on the tower to watch
a horse being dragged to the water.

Where do you bury the dead? They point at the creature
and later they shake it from their fingertips.

Sixty years ago they stopped moving.

The photo the explosion made wiped out everything
except the shadows of those who kept staring.

We have gained a city.
Everything is gleaming and dust-proof.

We have stared at the hands on the tower.
They didn’t blink.

We have shaken the bells.
We asked the man who sets them right who

was this done by. Who has done this.

The horse leads history.
They say it has pranced since it refused to shrink.

THE HANDS OF THE CLOCK IN HIROSHIMA

They stand on the tower to watch
a horse being dragged to the water.

Where do you bury the dead? They point at the creature
and later they shake it from their fingertips.

Sixty years ago they stopped moving.

The photo the explosion made wiped out everything
except the shadows of those who kept staring.

We have gained a city.
Everything is gleaming and dust-proof.

We have stared at the hands on the tower.
They didn’t blink.

We have shaken the bells.
We asked the man who sets them right who

was this done by. Who has done this.

The horse leads history.
They say it has pranced since it refused to shrink.
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