A poem by Hugo Claus

DE VOERSTREEK*

It is recounted that when the noblemen of Flanders

were received at the court of the French king

they were shabbily asked to sit on wooden benches.

At which the gentlemen divested themselves of their coats,

folded and rolled up

those coats of velvet, brocade and ermine

and then sat on them as on cushions

which they left lying there after the assembly.

- ‘Oh, hello there, seigneurs flamands,

you’re forgetting your beautiful expensive coats!’

The Flemings shrugged their shoulders

and said: ‘French gentlemen, regard this

as a small present for your king.’

That was in the thirteenth century, people say.

Today you can hear at night

in the palaces of Brussels our seigneurs flamands

busy with their language conflict,

baiting, snarling, geo-politically opportune.

They grind their teeth

for they’re thinking of their voters

Ye, my lords, see what ye do

and so leave that drab jacket of de Voerstreek

lined with rancune,

sewn in impotence

woven in interests,

behind on the Walloon wooden bench.

A small present.

*De Voerstreek/Les Fourons [Fr.] is an area which is a symbol of the conflict between the Flemish and Walloon peoples.