Een Iers fenomeen voor het eerst in poëzie gevangen
door Peter Mertens
The Basset Horn of Polranny Pirates
Flee away from the noisy drive-away
Tunneling through the entranceway
Out of the dark passage you might
Move towards the yellow light
Stepping in the entrance, silence you’ll find
Leaving the last light and rustling behind
Flee all temporary sound and roar
Take the second sluice to be sure
Up the library stairs, pass what’s been said
Ancient words and crackling wood ahead
A zigzag on the landing floor
To outsmart contemporary bore
No more, no more,
Slam the bedroom door
For a moment, just for a moment
No calls, no summons, no pleas.
Head deep in the pillow stowed away
A desperate escape from every day
Eyes closed firmly, see the twinkling star
Listen to the silence of the fuzzy far
The blood babbling in your vein
Memories flushed from every bone
But what’s the flushing sound that fades away?
What’s that what I hear, am I truly alone?
I tremble like a newly born
Beset by the blasts of the basset horn
It’s the screech of a seagull
Penetrating my defenseless skull
A howling mechanic wolf
A horrible growing groan
Your evacuation was in vain
Your endeavor a worthless campaign
For even in a pirate’s hideaway
To flee from here and now and every day
All is in vain because the basset horn
With blatant scorn
Will certainly recall
Your poor puerile soul
The Basset Horn of Polranny Pirates is no more….
Nieuwsgierig naar hoe het kwam en weer verdween? Lees dan hier de korte geschiedenis van The Basset Horn:
“Lavatory” by Peti Buchel
For the first time caught in a poem
by Peter Mertens.
The Basset Horn of Polranny Pirates
Flee away from the noisy drive-away
Tunneling through the entranceway
Out of the dark passage you might
Move towards the yellow light
Stepping in the entrance, silence you’ll find
Leaving the last light and rustling behind
Flee all temporary sound and roar
Take the second sluice to be sure
Up the library stairs, pass what’s been said
Ancient words and crackling wood ahead
A zigzag on the landing floor
To outsmart contemporary bore
No more, no more,
Slam the bedroom door
For a moment, just for a moment
No calls, no summons, no pleas.
Head deep in the pillow stowed away
A desperate escape from every day
Eyes closed firmly, see the twinkling star
Listen to the silence of the fuzzy far
The blood babbling in your vein
Memories flushed from every bone
But what’s the flushing sound that fades away?
What’s that what I hear, am I truly alone?
I tremble like a newly born
Beset by the blasts of the basset horn
It’s the screech of a seagull
Penetrating my defenseless skull
A howling mechanic wolf
A horrible growing groan
Your evacuation was in vain
Your endeavor a worthless campaign
For even in a pirate’s hideaway
To flee from here and now and every day
All is in vain because the basset horn
With blatant scorn
Will certainly recall
Your poor puerile soul
The Basset Horn of Polranny Pirates is no more….
Are you curious to know how it came into being and how it disappeared? Read here the brief history that surrounds The Basset Horn: