Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Anneke Brassinga

DRIFT ICE

The shining mist already outlines shadows.
We pull up the water right to our chins
like sheets, so ripplingly cool and fresh-starched,
we come to be bedded together, forever entwined
in the gauze of times past, when peacefully
no word we gave to what binds us, sleep
of unmoored reason, towards dreamed-up monsters.

IJSGANG

IJSGANG

De doorschenen mist tekent al schaduwen.
We trekken het water hoog op tot de kin
als lakens, zo rimpelend koel en gesteven,
we raken tezamen gebed, verweven voorgoed
in het ijle van vroeger toen vredig geen
woorden we gaven aan wat ons bindt, slaap
van de rede, gedroomde monsters tegemoet.
Close

DRIFT ICE

The shining mist already outlines shadows.
We pull up the water right to our chins
like sheets, so ripplingly cool and fresh-starched,
we come to be bedded together, forever entwined
in the gauze of times past, when peacefully
no word we gave to what binds us, sleep
of unmoored reason, towards dreamed-up monsters.

DRIFT ICE

The shining mist already outlines shadows.
We pull up the water right to our chins
like sheets, so ripplingly cool and fresh-starched,
we come to be bedded together, forever entwined
in the gauze of times past, when peacefully
no word we gave to what binds us, sleep
of unmoored reason, towards dreamed-up monsters.
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