An intense purple fading into pinkish pulp,
My veins are moving as I breathe
Actuated without help:
I am, but now already not the one I was.
From the beginning there’s an earlier,
It won’t be more nor less, as
All is streaming, sometimes going everywhere.
I listen to the stronger sound,
On all sides live is raging by me.
Where the beginning of our truce is, I don’t know
And where the end lies, what does it matter.
As the skies never are the same
I can not stay the way I am. Nor you,
Who, of all the streams, was the most accommodating.
(Dichter bij zee 2015. The theme was : everything is streaming – panta rhei)
Ook jij niet
Een heftig paars vervaagt tot roze pulp,
Mijn aderen bewegen als ik adem,
Voortgedreven zonder hulp:
Ik ben, maar nu al niet meer die ik was.
Van aanvang af is er een eerder,
Het wordt niet minder en niet meer want
alles stroomt, soms alle kanten uit.
Ik luister naar het sterkere geluid,
Aan alle kanten raast het leven langs me.
Waar het begin is van ons bondje weet ik niet,
En waar het einde wacht, wat kan het schelen.
Zoals de luchten nooit hetzelfde zijn,
Kan ik niet blijven wie ik ben. Ook jij niet, die
Van alle stromen de meest meegaande was.
We are dozens of people
Walking silently in two directions,
And none of us know each other,
We only recognise the colours
And shapes, all different yet the same.
And we don’t look at the others as we pass,
We ignore them moving as they ignore us,
In same pace, from one place
To another same place,
We don’t touch, we don’t bump. Civilized.
And then there is your face,
And dozens of people
Are gone from my view –
Except you and me, I see no one.
You see me. You see me!
We were dozens of people
Away from each other.
I always knew we would meet again
Here, in this place
Walking silently in the masses.
So we have loved and not regretted it,
We looked for reasons in the other’s eyes,
In waterfalls, in fires that we lit,
As we have loved and we shall love again.
For now the well is dry and tumbleweeds
are moving faster than forgotten clouds,
The sound is that of wind in evening streets
Where we have loved and we shall love again.
As we have loved and not regretted it.
As we’ve moved on, but not forgotten it,
As we will find. As we walk further on.
I borrowed some good hours to be me,
To walk my pace along a listening sea
Where gulls stole my thoughts to take far away.
Above my head circling, they screamed to say
That finders are keepers. Well, fine by me.
The borrowed hours stay mine too, you see.
just a bit of fun :)
If I say I can see the sea rise madly in your eyes,
The whole sea coming ashore with everything in it,
With silvery fish and big rusty anchors approaching,
Jelly fish and whales jumping up to sadly fall down,
You don’t believe that I am drowning, that it is not real
I see the sea rising madly in your eyes you say,
But I am, and I do, and the sea and everything in it
Is taking me over. I’m drowning in your eyes.
Words have their weights, some sink
Right to the bottom of one’s soul,
Some never make it rising from the ink
Remaining as a meaningless experiment.
The Morse signals of the windless rain
Hammering all Summer night,
Stars flickering with charcoal intervals,
Or the rhythm of two drastic woodpeckers,
The rings in water when a stone is thrown,
The humming bees’ buzzing between showers:
I could pretend the messages they send are ours,
Their code only known to you and me.