Engelse vertaling derde Gedicht des Vaderlands van Mustafa Kör

Cold Feet



This is a sad goodbye

After all, a traveller needs to be on the road

Safe and sound

To and from

Loved ones

A buzzing city


Fare. Well.

Onwards. Whereto?

This is no journey, at least not for my kind

Spastic, idiot, senile


You take the hurdles as they come

What about your cold feet? And unwillingness?


The daily pilgrimage by rail or road

Rampant arbitrariness where gentlemen don’ t get up

but kneel down orderly


The anguish of day-trippers

The journey of the blind and lame


I will no longer fear anything

if everyone becomes disgruntled with how we treat

the needy and the stagnation in waiting rooms and stations


Agile or limping

Why depart if we’re going to get stranded anyway?

Stranded. Beached. Silting up

We can do it all in the ankle-deep

We want the sea


Vertaling door: Astrid Alben