Dagkalender van de poëzie for 2 Jan. by the Dutch writer Menno Wigman

JEUNESSE DORÉE

I saw the greatest spirits of my generation

        bleed for a revolt that did not come.

I saw them dreaming between dust covers and

        waking up in the hell of twenty-two cities,

wicked as the hacked-out heart of Rotterdam.

I saw them swearing by a new-found drunkenness

        and dancing on the dark floor of the night.

I saw them weeping for the blockheads in the trams

        and praying between twice one hundred watts.

I saw them suffering from an uninvited talent

        and speaking with an agitated voice:

everything already said, not yet by them.

They were late. No promises that were lived up to.

        The cities glittered black as caviar.