Sunday 10 June 2012

Poem by the Dutch writer
Anna Enquist


She chases me, she sends me
shiny tiles and deep water, green
birds are perkily after my liver.

I hide in glowing meadows, I conceal
myself at the mountain rim. Her underground
whistling is almost audible, yes,

she chases me. If there’s a hunter
he’s wearing my coat. I catch her
scent in which I would choke. As long

as in the hunt’s masque I continue to have faith
she will exist. When the curtain falls
I look a fool there with arrow and bow.

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