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 –
Let us
explore before
long other cities, through new
streets with
musicians and sleepers on benches
stroll, grow
accustomed depart.
Let us
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.
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