Morten Sondergaard (Denmark)

Translated by John Irons

From a Duck's Confessions

My language: Goodbye. I am a duck. Oh.
         Eat lots of snails. Occasionally grab a house sparrow.
Devour their frail winter songs.
Forwards, eating my quack!  Eating: Everything.
         Hey, word-catcher. Your name's something else.
Quickly around. Hello, hello. Flew out of what
christened me. Jabber in another one now.
         Like comparing a duck pond with an ocean. Mess up
the grass. Endeavour to keep up the endeavour.
I say: I am obligingness. Oh.
         A feathered will. This my cackling through everything,
purely and simply not to be on the safe side.



The day I learnt to walk
         I was also taught how to speak
and various types of shoes
were placed at my disposal
I soon learnt to ride a bike without stabilisers
         and winter came and spring and it turned out
that life consisted of various positions
the body could assume
and dogs that ran off all the time
I took the field path out
         to the beach
there my father lay in the grass with his neck
entwined in an electric fence
His eyes gazed deep into
         the soul I until then
was unaware I was equipped with
I wanted to move him away from that fence
         but I got a shock every time I tried
Finally someone came and kicked me
         far into language