The window open, I grant autumn passage - The inexpressible, that as of old And still the same. My one desire, all told, Is this: to always love its message.
This life held little to be won in store. It does not matter now. Defence is vain If one considers all the world-old pain Of countless billions who have gone before.
Youth is all restlessness and a bemused Great yearning to have loved ones time can't best – And loneliness a source of loss, a curse.
All that is past, and life is almost used. In solitude the heart can now find rest. And then: one’s life could well have been much worse.
With yellow pears full-laden And covered with wild roses Land slips into lake, You swans alluring, And drunken with kisses Dipping your heads In sacred-sobering water.
Ah me, where will I, when The winter’s come, find flowers, and where The sunshine and The shadows of the earth? The walls all stand Speechless and cold, the wind-caught Weather-vanes clatter.
For a workshop on this poem, based on Gerrit Komrij's 'De Muze in het Kolenhok', go to here.