Let us set fire to
the old letters, see all the beautiful
rain-sodden sun-bleached words and lines
go up in flames while unashamedly
retaining their content. We have
known happiness, oh how we have known –
explore before long other cities, through new
streets with musicians and sleepers on benches
stroll, grow accustomed depart.
eat there drink and give
the singer enough for him to get drunk
the beggar what is his due.
To see the original and hear Hester Knibbe read the poem aloud, go to here.