Klaus Høeck, 'Legacy', p. 504

Klaus Høeck, 'Legacy', p. 478

       as far as i’m con

cerned one may use my poems

       as a sour dough that’s

       probably my best

way of being of some BE

       NEFIT in the world

       to be used in the

bakery of the new po

       etry: what a joy

       and then i have al

ways loved rye bread wholemeal bread

       and ‘lumberjack bread’

'Black Dog' - poem by Frans Budé

Black Dog

Return, labrador retriever, to the house

of your much-loved bitch, seek a way in.

I know: it’s enough to make you whine, you, worn out

in your old age, bad breath, your gums a

nasty red, your failing kidneys.

The lumps on your paws slow down your

former tempo, your heart bangs away in the wrong

place. Go on, return to your loved-one’s house.

She strokes with her eyes, beckons with her ears,

between the paws under her tail sparks

shoot up that set you all ablaze.

So: do, re, mi, duet! sings the clarinet:

give your girlfriend your great male charm, approach

her with affection, stretch out your crimson tongue,

feel your heart beat and know as of old:

she has a place for you, move that black coat of yours,

grow back to your first night. Lug yourself

afterwards off to your basket, poor old chap,

look up, look down, music evokes the urge,

One last spiral turn and sleep.

Georg Trakl: 'De Profundis' in English translation

De profundis

It is a stubble-field where black rain falls.

It is a dark-brown tree that stands alone.

It is a soughing wind that swirls round empty huts –

How dismal this evening.

Passing the hamlet

The gentle orphan girl still gathers scanty ears of corn.

Round and golden her eyes feast on the gathering dusk,

Her lap yearning for the heavenly bridegroom.

On their way home

The shepherds found the darling body

Rotting in the briers.

I am a shadow far from desolate villages.

God’s silence

I drank from the springs of the grove.

Cold metal meets my temples.

Spiders seek out my heart.

There is a light that guts in my mouth.

At night I found myself on a heath,

Stiffening with dirt and dust from the stars.

In the thicket of hazels

Crystal angels once more sounded.

Klaus Høeck,' Legacy', p. 486

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A poem by Johannes Immerzeel (1776-1841)

Grafschrift van een filosoof

Naakt was ik, toen ik werd geboren;

Naakt lig ik onder dezen steen;

‘k Heb, sedert ik op aard verscheen,

Dus niets gewonnen of verloren.

Is ’t wonder, dat de mensch in ’t leven

Het beste spoor zoo moeilijk vindt?

Twee gidsen, die hem voort doen streven,

En beurtlings wenk en spoorslag geven,

Fortuin en Min zijn beiden blind.

A philosopher’s epitaph

Quite naked I arrived here at my birth;

Quite naked I lie too beneath this stone;

No gain or loss I thus have ever known

Since I made my appearance on this earth.

So is it any wonder that a man

Should maybe find the best path hard to find?

Two guides that fuel his search to find a plan,

And wave and point in turns is all they can,

Fortune and Love are both completely blind.

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