Malta – the Assassinated Day

‘There are crooks everywhere you look now,
the situation is desperate.’ Journalist
Daphne Caruana Galizia (1964-2017), murdered
not far from Valletta, Leeuwarden’s dark sister city.

Under a moon full-grown and white
like a wild potato gone mad,

a man sits, half in darkness,
alone and smoking on his veranda,

floor strewn with advertising,
newspapers and brochures about temples

and cities and five-star hotels.
But grim is the news driven

by the machinery of death, the island
lays bare its whitewashed tombs.

A single bomb blew a car almost
over the mountains and left the tongue

that made life hell for Malta’s mafia
dead and charred. Like crows

the potato sacks took wing over hills
closely planted with seed potatoes from

Het Bildt. Ai, watch your back, Jack,
now night has fallen in Europe.

In the valley of death they torched the word
the way they once slid books into the flames.

Translation: David Colmer

Malta – De opblaasde dei

‘There are crooks everywhere you look now,
the situation is desperate.’ Sjoernaliste
Daphne Caruana Galizia (1964-2017), fermoarde,
net fier fan Valletta, Ljouwert’s tsjustere susterstêd.

Under in moanne folgroeid en wyt
as in útsinnich wylde jirpel,

sit in man, heal yn it tsjuster,
allinnich, smokend op syn waranda,

de flier besiedde mei reklame,
kranten en folders oer timpels en

stêden en hotels mei fiif stjerren.
Mar faai is it nijs, dat dreaun troch

bline deamasines, it eilân
syn wytkalke grêven bleatlei.

Ien inkelde bom blies in auto
beneistenby de bergen oer, swart-

ferbrând wie de tonge dy’t Malta’s
maffia it fjoer oan ’e skinen lei.

Jirpelpûden klapten as roeken
de heuvels oer, beboud mei bergen

Biltske setters. Do, wês wach, Watse,
yn Europa’s nacht. Yn it dal fan

de dea stuts men it wurd yn brân,
sa’t men oait boeken de flammen yn treau.