ALS HET JE OVERKOMT
Hoe ga je naar bed als je net een schaap hebt overreden, trillend op de
bedrand je koude handen als rauwe sukadelappen op je ogen, haar hand
tot halve sinaasappel gevormd die zwaar op je knie drukt, heen en weer
beweegt om alles uit te persen wat je is overkomen maar vergeet niet de snelheid
van het praten, zonder pauzes blijft alles vacuüm, heeft verdriet weinig kans
ertussen te komen. Begin alsjeblieft over wijn denk je nog, over hoe de kinderen
opgroeien en al die klaprozen roekeloos openspringen maar haar hoofd is al
tijden een autocue, je weet wat je moet zeggen om haar gerust te stellen:
mooi weer spelen heeft meer met regen te maken en het regent alsof we de zon
ooit bedacht hebben. Je loopt rondjes door de slaapkamer om je gedachten als een
armband in elkaar te kunnen klikken, wast je handen keer op keer en kijkt ernaar om
de zuiverheid te testen, het lichaam sissend als een verroeste barbecue.
Ze zegt dat er glazen en een wijnfles in het nachtkastje staan, nog van de vorige keer
dat je bevend en al dat bloed. Na twee glazen valt ze uit, krimp je ineen onder de lakens
als het schaap onder je autobanden, denk je aan alles wat ooit sneuvelde en een klap
met zich meebracht, je draagt dat met je mee tot je hart in een graf verandert, je hoofd
als een granieten steen erbovenop, eindelijk tot rust gekomen huil je wijn totdat het
niet meer om het schaap gaat maar om wie de bestuurder troost, jij arme, dwaze hond.
From: Kalfsvlies
Publisher: Atlas Contact, Amsterdam
When It Happens to You
How do you go to sleep when you’ve just run over a sheep, trembling on the
edge of the bed your cold hands slapped on your eyes like raw steaks, her hand
cupped like half an orange pressing heavily on your knee, twisting back
and forth to squeeze out everything that happened to you but don't forget the speed
of speech, without pauses you don’t break the vacuum, don’t give sadness
a chance to butt in. Please talk about wine, you're thinking, about how the kids
are growing up and all those poppies recklessly bursting open but her face has long
since become an autocue, you know what you need to say to reassure her:
putting on a sunny face is all about rain and it's raining as if we'd dreamt up the sun
a long time ago. You walk round and round the bedroom trying to snap
your thoughts shut like a bracelet, wash your hands again and again and look at them to
check their cleanliness, your body hissing like a rusty barbecue.
She says there are glasses and a bottle of wine in the bedside table, from the last time that
you shaking and so much blood. After two glasses she passes out, you curl up under the sheets
like the sheep under your tyres, you think of everything ever killed that brought a blow
with it, you'll carry that with you until your heart turns into a grave, your head
like a slab of granite on top, finally calmed down you cry wine until it is not
about the sheep anymore but about who consoles the driver, you poor, crazy dog.
Lucas Rijneveld (formerly Marieke Lucas Rijneveld; born 20 April 1991 in Nieuwendijk, the Netherlands) is a Dutch writer.[1][2] Rijneveld won the 2020 International Booker Prize together with his translator Michele Hutchison for the debut novel The Discomfort of Evening.[3] Rijneveld is the first Dutch author to win the prize,[4] the first non-binary person to do so[5] and only the third Dutch author to be nominated.
Rijneveld grew up in a Reformed protestant family on a farm in North Brabant in the Netherlands.[1][6] Rijneveld has said that his debut novel, translated into English as The Discomfort of Evening, is inspired partly by the death of his brother when the author was three.[1] It took him six years to complete the novel.[7]
Rijneveld is said to have developed an interest in writing in primary school after reading J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, which he borrowed from the local library.[7][8] Because in Reformed circles references to magic are considered taboo, Rijneveld copied out the whole book onto his computer so he could re-read it upon returning the novel.[7] Rijneveld identifies as both male and female, and adopted the second first name Lucas at the age of nineteen, having been bullied in secondary school because of his "boyish appearance and nature".[9]
His name as a child was only Marieke, and he previously published under the name Marieke Lucas.[9] At the start of January 2022, Rijneveld announced that he uses he/him personal pronouns in English,[10] having previously used they/thempronouns,[11] and zij/haar (she/her) in Dutch.[12]
Rijneveld said Jan Wolkers, who also grew up in a Reformed environment, is his idol.[7]His interest in poetry was ignited while attending speech therapy sessions and looking at pictures with poetry on them while waiting for the therapy session. When Rijneveld started making progress in therapy, he was allowed to read those poems by the therapist.[9]In 2021, Rijneveld was selected by American poet Amanda Gorman to translate her work into Dutch. Rijneveld initially accepted the commission, but later withdrew after Dutch journalist and cultural activist Janice Deul criticised the publisher for commissioning a white translator for the work of a black poet.[16]
This poem and a different translation of it have previously been published on Poetry International. Vivien’s version on this page has previously been published on Verseville.com
Source: Wikipedia
Vivien D. Glass is a literary translator from Dutch and German to English. She was born in Switzerland to Irish and Swiss parents and moved to the Netherlands in 1995, where she completed a Bachelor’s degree at the ITV University of Applied Sciences for Translation and Interpreting. Her published translations include novels, biographies, short stories, articles, poems and plays, and she was awarded the Nederland Vertaalt poetry translation prize in 2013.