Stefan Hertmans

(Belgium, 1951)

Bus Stop

A black sun shines in the night.
We are awake.
The end of dreams
Is near.

What great words can’t say
Will come to you in something greater still.
Take this toad for instance,

Flattened, with stars up above,
The talk of drunken men
In the park near the ring-road.

Let us pass by ourselves,
Lightfooted but unwinged,
Transmitting signs through frozen streets.

Nothing’s achieved.
In darkness, in panting silence
The Three Graces trample,

Three old bags,
Younger than young,
Hot-blooded and grinning like toads
Near the pool of cold sin
Croaking

And they walk right by.

Translated by Stefan Hertmans.