Monday, 29 October 2012

Poem by the Dutch writer
C.O. Jellema


Do lovers ask themselves: our love, will it
add anything to love? –  so does

the fruit of a womb maintain the
doggedness of dying –

Something dreams itself lost within us,
something wants it random, something
survives it, just as

above night’s newly fallen snow
melting in the midday sun

that cloud of
dancing midges –

a mere image, lighter
than body is ever.

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