Posted by: W. E. Poplaski | April 10, 2009


by Johan Andreas der Mouw (1863 – 1919).




You’re in a cell. A stay has been denied.

You know the place, the date and time you’ll be

put down. They’ll say that you were fairly tried.


You may be innocent. The penalty,

however, stands. Tough shit. You will have said                  5

your last goodbyes to all your family.


Your final meal is ordered. You’ll be fed.

You’re guilty? Then be happy. You won’t face

the extra anguish. Time. You will be led


onto the chair, let’s say. The blood will race                       10

through all your veins. The meal will boil inside.

Your muscles will contract as if to brace


for impact. People will cry out: “(S)He’s fried!”,

not knowing what, but only who has died.


(transl. by Remco van der Zwaag)



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