Het Tao dat genoemd wordt, is niet het eeuwige Tao

道 可 道 ， 非 常 道。

Voor Amy Tsao


I

Toen het pad eenmaal was verwekt
werden de linten doorgeknipt.

Er was een geboorte.

Het gras vertrapt tot modder, bedekt met grind,
en bladgoud op zijn plek gehamerd onder de stenen.

Het pad is kaarsrecht,
maar zijn bedoelingen helder als van een verleider,

Het splijt het rechtlijnige park in twee diagonale stukken,
penetreet de campus met onhoudbare voorwaartse dynamiek,

Voorspeld in alle andere lijnen en
rechte routes in de buurt,
is het de koning onder de paden.

Het wordt dagelijks overgestoken zoals de London Bridge;
het wordt elke dag genomen, keer op keer,
blindelings, in vertrouwen.

Circulus in probando


II

‘s Nachts is het pad leeg en de uiteinden
komen tot elkaar.
Het park denkt, de tijd
gaat langzaam.

Zoals slakken,
weven geesten slierten van
chaos te vaag om
in het daglicht een spoor na te laten
en de vijver zoekt bedaard diepte en dieptes
zonder enige verantwoordelijkheid.


(vertaling: Anne-Marie van Hoof)

The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao

for Amy Hsiao

I

Once the path was conceived
the ribbons were cut away.

There was a birth.

The grass was trod to mud, then gravel lain,
and gold leaf hammered into place under the stones.

The path is not perfectly straight,
but its intentions are clear as a seducer’s.

It bisects the rectilinear park diagonally,
penetrates the campus with inexorable forward dynamics,

Foreshadowed in all the other lines and
straight routes in the vicinity,
it is the king of paths.

It’s daily crossed like London Bridge; it’s
taken again, and again, blindly,
trustingly.

Because it begs its question.


II

At night the path is empty and the ends
join.
The park thinks, time
slows.

Like slugs,
ghosts weave trails of
chaos too vague to
leave a daylit trace
and the pond leisurely seeks depth and depths
with complete lack of responsibility.

Star In The Woods

Ik ben
Samuel Leroy Jackson
Hollywood acteur
You may have seen
My films
You may have heard
My name
Yet the movie game
Of lights and fame
I am not here
To play

After two months training students
Of the dramatic artsIn Amsterdam
The workshops were done
Masterclasses completed
I have migrated south
To warm receptive climes
For there’s a new thing
A fresh plot in my life
I am going to open and run
A Hollywood delicatessen
In the woods beyond the campus
Right here in Tilburg
Two hundred year old proud city
I am honoured, and humble as the honey bee

So please please get a little fat
It is OK to do so
Forgo Albron
I’ll feed you in the woods
Come find me there; I will sustain you

With actorly technique
I’ll entice you to splash out on spices
Take a gamble on inspiring fruit and innovative ices
Regard my rare pears
My princely quince
Come buy come buy
Contemplate my cherry pie
Cranberries, bilberries, tilberries
Taste and try
Taste and try

And as we banter and barter
Across the counter
Help me learn
Your language, your punchy Dutch
Cornflakey crunch that I love so much
There ain’t nothin like it
Russian French Apache – a tongue none can touch

We will have a cultural exchange
Let us all broaden our range

Here’s more food for thought
In the evenings I will not rest from
My day’s labours
I will contribute my share to the Tilburg night
Moonlighting in the Nieuwe Vorst en Paradox
Dancing to the four stages of culture shocks
To techno, jazz, folk, soul and rock
Wearing my iconic beard and Scottish kilt
Lighting the halls with a North American lilt
As I scat a scooby doodle do wop dat

Come to my day life come to my night life
I will show any soul who cares to witness
My ego evolving, true mental fitness
My road leading me
Out of old spotlights
I cater to the city’s appetites
While Tilburg basks in the bicentennial
I will prosper in 2009
And there will be no time for golf or Pilates
In the shade of eiken en beuken
I will run my business
Joggers, dog walkers, students and staff will visit my
Deli of delights, winkel in the Warande where the eight ways
Meet
The star-shaped park will host a star
And I will lay my products upon you
No eenheidsworst
But unity sausage will be
My calling card
It’s a blend of the finest ingredients
I sure as hell guarantee
My 1620 waffles will wow you and
My Samuel Leroy Jackson cakes
Will taste the best

October Eyes

lost glove gathering dew dropped on a bench
by Dante
fat green wheelie bin squatting out of sight
by Simon
oak and beech leaves tube-blown to a mountain
by Olympia

*

exam room scholar heads bowed over paper hair hanging
(innocent like sleeping children)
inside Cobbenhagen

window cleaners wielding telescopic squeegees
(as if washing an elephant)
outside Warande

*

cyclists

teeth gritted

iPods humming

bent forward

coming

along windy routes

Clipper Square ... Pious Street ... Hill Street ... New Country Street

Red Cycle Path Red Cycle Path Red Cycle Path Red Cycle Path Red Cycle Path Red Cycle Path Red Cycle Path Red Cycle Path Red Cycle Path Red Cycle Path Red Cycle Path Red Cycle Path

Het enige dat je weten moet

(opgedragen aan de surveillanten van de uvt)

Dit examen begon voordat jullie verwekt werden
Het heeft geen einde
Doe je best

Zorg ervoor dat je gsm aan staat
(de hele tijd en voor altijd)

Kijk af bij je buurman
Maak gebruik van spiekbriefjes,
rekenmachines en woordenboeken
Ga online

Kijk goed naar de notities die je op de palm van je hand hebt geschreven

Praat tijdens het examen, bel je vrienden en familie
Ontmoet en praat met elkaar
Eet en drink

Denk
Reflecteer
Ga bij jezelf te rade

Beantwoord alle vragen en geen van de vragen

Dagdroom
Neem een dutje als het moet

Kijk bij iedereen af
Pleeg plagiaat, in godsnaam

Zet je horloge to infinity and beyond
Test je limiet

Steek je hand op (als je een vraag hebt)
Roep en schreeuw (als je ergens onzeker over bent)

Relax
Be cool

Dit examen is oneindig

Execution

Eating a sober lunch of rye bread with peanut butter, the UD spins
his ergonomically sound chair towards the window and for inspiration searches
outside, for the cast iron sculpture’s newly moved blue bolted prow. His gaze pans
past pond towards TiasNimbas and the proud ship of knowledge. He sees
it has been given the second chance it deserves. He reflects
on Tilburg’s murdered maple - no reprieve there; the saw’s buzz still echoes
so he will join the protest at four the following day, though he knows
he would never chain himself to a tree, and of anthropomorphism he disapproves.

His swiss cheese plant, the office’s own groene oase, spills
over papers and pens, his desk’s organized chaos, forms
a higgledy-piggledy mini-jungle, defies
the consensus of grey furniture. If he uproots
this palm, the room’s uniformity triumphs
but it will suffer no herinrichting like the vijfsprong. The thesis he is editing needs
trimming, thinning; his plant he will always spare. It is paragraphs he sentences
to cuts, and with mighty pen slashes.
Now he’s digested brown bread and dangling participles, he turns
to the production of his own paper, the tree he daily drip feeds
with data, nourishes with sources, in readiness for when he prunes,
fine-tunes
and eventually publishes.

He begins.