NEVELS
en SEIZOENEN in TUIN en NATUUR
POEZIE - EIGEN WERK 13
In
het Engels vertaalde eigen gedichten
*
Flowers
of remembrance
It's 33 years ago today...
If you would read this, yonder
in faraway Africa
"a very happy birthday"
I couldn't give you
flowers from our garden
but in my heart I still
remember and cherish
the soundness and intense joy
of when you were born
All memories, like tender
beautiful flowers
today I can call you by your name
"dear Inge"
"a very happy birthday"
yonder in faraway Africa
Mum 13.09.00
*
Trees
die upright
Birds
are still sitting on your branches
The
wind caresses your bald crown
You're
standing so majestic and very upright, yet
the
battle has run its course
No
silver lake and no future either
slowly
everything gets undermined
how
can it be that you
are
slowly dying away ?
You
were beautiful in your fresh spring coat
but
I even loved you more in winter
when
everything was grey and bald
and
you, the silver proud den in our garden
in
white or ice, your wintercoat
with
here or there once in a while
a
spark of light and a ray of sunshine
that's
how you contributed to the hope that overcame winter
I
haven't counted the years, nor the heights
eight
stories high perhaps and only
twenty
years young, you looked so strong
and
so sure of yourself
Haven't
I hugged you enough ? or
thank
you enough, or were you just tired
of
all that standing up
well,
what does it matter
The
last few months your silver turned brown,
and
all that rests is a bald crown
but
also your dead silhouet
I
still like
I'd
like to thank you for all those years
The
joy you gave us
Even
if you weren't human
You
lived in the heart of our garden
What
silent joy brings
Generosity
and abundance
Voyage
of discovery
Nature
and joy of gardening
ria
- 2003
*
Silver
fir, 2 years later
Bruised,
de-barked, damaged
all
over your limbs
You're
still there
although
soon you will be past
A
woodpigeon, silvergrey and round
keeps
guard for a little while longer
And
basks himself in the sun, generously smiling,
for
quite a while
A
picture, on your skinny branch
They,
well fed
with
a nice coat of feathers
And
you, how weak you look now
Regularly,
birds coming to rest
on
your dead skeleton
not
a soft, but a willing bed
oh,
give it up
Your
SOUL has fled
a
bit more each year
it
hurts
yet
there will never be an end
when
they chop you down, later, in winter
dug
up your roots
a
new cycle will start
and
in the sky, more horizon will develop
I'll
mist you, silver fir of ours !
August
3, 2005 - ria
*
Aan
deze pagina wordt verder gewerkt
volgende
- eigen werk 2007
TOP
Mijn
gastenboek
of opnieuw naar
Startpagina
|