Translation Poem by Robert Mutsaers

Compensation was never my thing,
I sing, whenever I please and its never really the case,
When you are around in the soberness of my spring,
Space.. moments and grace..being fear is what I lace.

When we first met, there was this spirit and delight,
Translation craved meaning before a morning light,
Knowledge in a shared sculpture of autonomy,
Intelligence tipsy with a common sense,
The ruddy bless smiled in blink defense,
It could not bear and oh, apply,
The body of dependability,
….

Retaliation was never my swing,
I bring, whenever I please and its never really a chase,
When who is around in the tenderness of my fling,
Place.. foments and blasé...being near is what I face.

When we first slept, there was bliss acquit and night,
Cultivation enslaved seeing after an adorning fight,
Violence in a shared rupture of hegemony,
Sixth sense tipsy with a sermon dance,
The holy chess smiled on ink fragrance,
It should not fear and so, comply,
To a body over extendability,
…

Should it be my retention or yours,
Could it be my pretension or ours,
When we ask only for one little thing,
A movement that will ring, a beloved one within,
And without a right to comprehend... or defend.