Poem
Gaston Burssens
Adieu I
This is, so be it, the last notethat I shall,
will,
can
play
in the last life that I live,
on the last keys of my body.
An instrument hard as a safe
from which I have squandered the craziest pennies,
from which I have pulverised the most expensive spider webs.
The dust has stuck to my bones.
It will be buried with me.
The worms will not eat it,
the poison is only intended for me.
I can, I could know
that each beautiful song decorates itself with a conclusion,
as each conclusion decorates itself with a prayer after eating,
and that this end, now or never,
must be called beginning.
© Translation: 1982, John Stevens Wade
From: Anthology
Publisher: Arts End Books, Newton, 1982
From: Anthology
Publisher: Arts End Books, Newton, 1982
Adieu I
Adieu I
Dit zijn, ’t zij zo, de laatste notendie ik ga,
wil,
kan
spelen
in ’t laatste leven dat ik leef,
op de laagste toetsen van mijn ribbenkast.
Een kast hard als een safe,
waaruit ik de gekste centen heb verbrast,
waarin ik de duurste spinnewebben heb verpulverd.
Het stof is aan mijn knekels blijven hangen.
Het zal met mij begraven worden.
De wormen zullen het niet eten,
’t gif is alleen voor mij bestemd.
Ik kan, ik kon het weten
dat elk mooi lied zich met een einde tooit,
zoals elk eind zich tooit met een gebed na ’t eten,
en dat dit einde, nu of nooit,
begin moet heten.
© 1958, the estate of Gaston Burssens
From: Alles is mogelijk in een gedicht. Verzamelde verzen 1914-1965
Publisher: Meulenhoff/Manteau, Antwerp/Amsterdam
From: Alles is mogelijk in een gedicht. Verzamelde verzen 1914-1965
Publisher: Meulenhoff/Manteau, Antwerp/Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Gaston Burssens
Close
Adieu I
This is, so be it, the last notethat I shall,
will,
can
play
in the last life that I live,
on the last keys of my body.
An instrument hard as a safe
from which I have squandered the craziest pennies,
from which I have pulverised the most expensive spider webs.
The dust has stuck to my bones.
It will be buried with me.
The worms will not eat it,
the poison is only intended for me.
I can, I could know
that each beautiful song decorates itself with a conclusion,
as each conclusion decorates itself with a prayer after eating,
and that this end, now or never,
must be called beginning.
© 1982, John Stevens Wade
From: Anthology
Publisher: 1982, Arts End Books, Newton
From: Anthology
Publisher: 1982, Arts End Books, Newton
Adieu I
This is, so be it, the last notethat I shall,
will,
can
play
in the last life that I live,
on the last keys of my body.
An instrument hard as a safe
from which I have squandered the craziest pennies,
from which I have pulverised the most expensive spider webs.
The dust has stuck to my bones.
It will be buried with me.
The worms will not eat it,
the poison is only intended for me.
I can, I could know
that each beautiful song decorates itself with a conclusion,
as each conclusion decorates itself with a prayer after eating,
and that this end, now or never,
must be called beginning.
© 1982, John Stevens Wade
From: Anthology
Publisher: 1982, Arts End Books, Newton
From: Anthology
Publisher: 1982, Arts End Books, Newton
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