Poems by Mark Boog

I was fortunate to read with Mark Boog, pictured, one of Holland's best younger poets, at the Maastricht International Poetry Nights end of October. Below you will find two of his poems, in the original, and translated, taken from his De encyclopedie van de grote woorden (The Encyclopaedia of Big Words) which won the prestigious VSB Poetry Prize in 2006. Also a novelist, Boog was born in 1970 and is married with children. It will be clear from these poems that, while Boog follows the Dutch poetic tendency to employ a strong, near-surrealist bent in imagery, he forgoes the avoidance of the personal, the playful, and the narrative, opening up Dutch poetry to new tones and directions.

GELUK

Het geluk is overkomelijk. Men plaatst het

in een vitrine en gaat aan het werk.

Wie ernaar vraagt krijgt het te zien,

onder weloverwogen commentaar.

Het is gebruikelijk om ’s avonds achterover

te zitten en het geluk, zoals dat beschaafd

verlicht tentoongesteld staat, te beschouwen.

Men stoot de deelgenoot erover aan.

Die knikt of zegt heel zachtjes: ‘Ja.’

In hoeverre het geluk ons bepaalt

is niet eens een vraag: totaal. Wij zijn niets

dan ons geluk, en het geluk is waar wij zijn.

Slechts tijdens het afnemen van de glasplaat

slaan we soms de ogen neer. De vochtige

doek hangt slap in onze handen. Zo mooi.

HAPPINESS

Happiness is surmountable. One places it

in a glass case and goes to work.

Those who ask are allowed to see it,

accompanied by a balanced commentary.

It is customary to lean back in the evening

and, in the refined light it is

exhibited, consider this happiness.

One gives one’s companion a nudge.

They nod or say quite softly: ‘Yes.’

To what extent this happiness determines us

is not even the question: absolutely. We are nothing

but our happiness, and happiness is where we are.

Only whilst wiping the glass top

we sometimes lower our eyes. The damp cloth

is slack in our hands. So beautiful.

LIEFDE

De lucht ligt als een blok op het land,

onzichtbaar en massief.

Je gaat gekleed in de kleur van je haar,

in je ogen, je passen en je woorden.

Je bent hier en elders. Ik draag je me na

en huiver. Je bent te groot misschien,

of te dichtbij. Je onbereikbaarheid

is onvergeeflijk. Kon ik een vogel zijn −

maar de nauwkeurigheid ontbreekt me

zoals het vertrouwen. Ik kijk naar je

en huiver. Spreek me aan, want ik zwijg,

verdraag mijn wurggreep, verdraag

de onbeholpenheid, verdraag mij, liefde.

LOVE

The sky lies flat on the ground,

invisible and solid.

You are dressed in the colour of your hair,

in your eyes, your steps and your words.

You’re here and elsewhere. I give chase to you

and shudder. You are too tall perhaps,

or too near. Your inapproachability

is unforgivable. If I could be a bird –

but the precision escapes me

as does the trust. I look at you

and shudder. Talk to me, as I’ll keep quiet,

suffer my stranglehold, suffer

the awkwardness, suffer me, love.

poems by Mark Boog, from De encyclopedie van de grote woorden (Cossee, Amsterdam, 2005); translated by Willem Groenewegen. Reprinted with permission of the poet.

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