Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Anneke Brassinga

BESIDE THE NILE

No entrance with flourishes needed to occur.
Of a vanishing point no one knew. Everything just
swiftly got smaller in the calmly spread-out realm

of humbleness and indolence; a sky as
dull and light as ash seemed to submit itself,
its hallowing was a veil, approached

the distant mountain ridge which, staying put,
returned to desert. Almost a mercy
to stand still there or to move as silently,

your skirts held high above your head, dwelling
in one’s shadow beside the Nile. Was it already sand
from the far side? You seemed never to have arrived,

no world behind you, from way back surrounded
by a changing just as unchanging as uncertain –
powder of grains, fall of light, breath

of evening wind. In the ensuing, river bed
full of absent paths, here was simply a place
where even time was allowed to disperse

and what lived there achieved itself without impatience.

NAAST DE NIJL

NAAST DE NIJL

Geen intocht met ophef hoefde te arriveren.
Van een verdwijnpunt had niemand weet. Gewoon,
gezwind werd alles kleiner in het kalm gespreide rijk

van schamelte en ledigheid; een hemel
dof en licht als as leek zich te overleveren,
zijn wijding was een sluier, naderde

het ver gebergte dat geen voet verzettend
terugkeerde tot woestijn. Welhaast genade
om er stil te staan of stil te bewegen,

je rokken boven je hoofd geheven, behuisd
in eigen schaduw naast de Nijl. Was het al zand
van overzij? Je leek er nooit te zijn gekomen,

geen wereld achter de rug, van oudsher omgeven
door een veranderen even onveranderlijk als ongewis –
stuifsel van korrels, val van licht, adem

van avondwind. In het voortgaan, bedding
vol afwezige wegen, was daar eenvoudig een plaats
waar zelfs de tijd verstrooid mocht raken

en wat er leefde, voldeed zich zonder ongeduld.
Close

BESIDE THE NILE

No entrance with flourishes needed to occur.
Of a vanishing point no one knew. Everything just
swiftly got smaller in the calmly spread-out realm

of humbleness and indolence; a sky as
dull and light as ash seemed to submit itself,
its hallowing was a veil, approached

the distant mountain ridge which, staying put,
returned to desert. Almost a mercy
to stand still there or to move as silently,

your skirts held high above your head, dwelling
in one’s shadow beside the Nile. Was it already sand
from the far side? You seemed never to have arrived,

no world behind you, from way back surrounded
by a changing just as unchanging as uncertain –
powder of grains, fall of light, breath

of evening wind. In the ensuing, river bed
full of absent paths, here was simply a place
where even time was allowed to disperse

and what lived there achieved itself without impatience.

BESIDE THE NILE

No entrance with flourishes needed to occur.
Of a vanishing point no one knew. Everything just
swiftly got smaller in the calmly spread-out realm

of humbleness and indolence; a sky as
dull and light as ash seemed to submit itself,
its hallowing was a veil, approached

the distant mountain ridge which, staying put,
returned to desert. Almost a mercy
to stand still there or to move as silently,

your skirts held high above your head, dwelling
in one’s shadow beside the Nile. Was it already sand
from the far side? You seemed never to have arrived,

no world behind you, from way back surrounded
by a changing just as unchanging as uncertain –
powder of grains, fall of light, breath

of evening wind. In the ensuing, river bed
full of absent paths, here was simply a place
where even time was allowed to disperse

and what lived there achieved itself without impatience.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère