Monday, 31 December 2012

Poem by the Dutch writer
Rogi Wieg


For Bert Schierbeek

It’s raining, the last of the flowers are
letting go, but people are blooming.

Hölderlin briefly reads clearly
then clouds over: curtains are shut

during the daytime. Doors close
without a keyhole. It’s raining hard.

And yet: humans believe that the world is
getting better, women draw a lipstick

and no revolver. Women bathe children,
but the sky turns their water black.

And yet: time unreels to give people
extra time and now Hölderlin will chuckle a bit

about the last pears. Although he’s mistaken:
it is his madness dancing to ashes’ tune.

It’s raining, the last flowers are
strewing children on the old earth.

And Hölderlin pores over his poem,
scratches some words, drinks and prays.

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