Bilingualism

Because I’m a bilingual poet who writes both in Dutch and in Frisan, people always ask me in which language I think and dream. I always answer that I don’t know for sure, but last night I found the answer:

DROOM

we lagen op twee tuinstoelen
tegen de voet van de terp

mijn tante en ik

het was vijf uur ’s middags en zomers warm
maar de lucht was donkergroen

ik was gevlucht van mijn eigen bruiloft
en sprak met mijn tante over de kinderen
die aan de andere kant van de terp een kuil hadden gegraven
en die hadden gevuld met water

na het geplons van de kinderen
die van de terp in de kuil sprongen

zagen we hoe mijn oma overstuur thuiskwam
er was iets met mijn opa

ik herinner me niet welke taal
mijn tante en ik hadden gesproken

maar het laatste wat ik haar vroeg
was zonder twijfel in het fries

is pake dea?

*

DREAM

we were lying on two garden chairs
at the foot of the small hill

my aunt and I

it was five o’ clock in the afternoon and warm like summer
but the air around us was a dark green

I had fled from my own wedding
and spoke with my aunt about the children
who had dug a hole on the other side of the hill
and filled it with water

after the splashing of the children
who jumped from the hill into the hole

we saw how my grandmother came home all upset
something was wrong with my grandfather

I don’t remember which language
my aunt and I had been using

but the last thing I asked her
was in Frisian without a doubt

has grandfather died?

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