Peter Theunynck Biography

My father said: here they lie,
the Canadians. I saw them standing
by the canal, in their grey clothing.
Endless rows, fit for the slaughter.
...

The way people fly
in old engravings, so clear-cut
so credulous.
...

They reside in palaces along the Seine.
People dim their chambers' lights.
People hardly dare to cough, people
gather heaps of statistics about them.
...

A little green spade is my hound.
I hold it tightly in my hand.
I hardly ever put it in my mouth.
A little green spade is my hound.
...

We carried a part of your life outside.
Piling up on the platform all you'd gathered
under our roof. It lay in ropes, in piles,
blindfolded in boxes: moving as much as possible
...