Sunday, 11 January 2015

A recent poem by the Dutch poet Anneke Brassinga

Auf Flügeln des Gesanges

Last night I saw the garbage men up on their carts
combing the alleys at a crawl, in fervent  sub-
jugation to the dionysian ideal, performing

polyphonic Schubert, an elevating choral
opus, threadbare as a rag. Out and about was
also Freud, his glass top hat held in one hand –

following the dream that he himself had written down,
all that I saw was sadly in pursuit throughout the town.
So too can I pretend another life will come

in which I finally re-meet you – as if we
in the shadows of tomorrow, though refound,
could wholly lose each other this time round.

To see the original poem, go to here

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