Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Guido Gezelle

I Dream E’en Now . . .

                 I dream e’en now of you my child,
of happy days when we two will 
                 together and with tempers mild – 
                 pass days, pass days in tempo wild – 
                              we’ll share times good and ill. 

                 I dream e’en now of you my child,
And shall not be content, content 
                 with earthly tastes that I detect 
                 that feed but the body’s element, 
                              and that the spirit will reject. 

                 I dream e’en now of you my child,
you’ve fought on through now, fought on through 
                 the night that the devil’s evil hand 
                 had used to shroud the promised land: 
                              it has admitted you. 

                 I dream e’en now of you, my child,
and walk the streets, walk through and through, 
                 since in my secret soul abides 
                 the thought on which my sole hope rides: 
                              that God will grant me you.

                              Ik droome alreê van u, mijn kind, 

                              Ik droome alreê van u, mijn kind, 
               en van de blijde dagen, de dagen, 
                              dat samen wij, en welgezind, 
                              vliegt dagen vliegt voorbij gezwind, 
                                             ons lief en leed gaan dragen. 

                              Ik droome alreê van u, mijn kind, 
               noch late ik mij gelegen, gelegen 
                              aan al dat aardsch en bitter smaakt, 
                              dat \'t lijf en \'t lijf alleene raakt, 
                                             en daar de geest kan tegen. 

                              Ik droome alreê van u, mijn kind, 
               gij hebt hem doorgestreden, gestreden 
                              den nacht dien \'s vijands booze hand 
                              gespreid had om \'t beloofde land: 
                                             gij zijt erin getreden. 

                              Ik droome alreê van u, mijn kind, 
               en, ga ik langs de straten, de straten 
                              daar heemlijk in mijn herte weunt 
                              \'t gedacht, daar al mijn hope op steunt: 
                                             God zal u mij toch laten!
Close

I Dream E’en Now . . .

                 I dream e’en now of you my child,
of happy days when we two will 
                 together and with tempers mild – 
                 pass days, pass days in tempo wild – 
                              we’ll share times good and ill. 

                 I dream e’en now of you my child,
And shall not be content, content 
                 with earthly tastes that I detect 
                 that feed but the body’s element, 
                              and that the spirit will reject. 

                 I dream e’en now of you my child,
you’ve fought on through now, fought on through 
                 the night that the devil’s evil hand 
                 had used to shroud the promised land: 
                              it has admitted you. 

                 I dream e’en now of you, my child,
and walk the streets, walk through and through, 
                 since in my secret soul abides 
                 the thought on which my sole hope rides: 
                              that God will grant me you.

I Dream E’en Now . . .

                 I dream e’en now of you my child,
of happy days when we two will 
                 together and with tempers mild – 
                 pass days, pass days in tempo wild – 
                              we’ll share times good and ill. 

                 I dream e’en now of you my child,
And shall not be content, content 
                 with earthly tastes that I detect 
                 that feed but the body’s element, 
                              and that the spirit will reject. 

                 I dream e’en now of you my child,
you’ve fought on through now, fought on through 
                 the night that the devil’s evil hand 
                 had used to shroud the promised land: 
                              it has admitted you. 

                 I dream e’en now of you, my child,
and walk the streets, walk through and through, 
                 since in my secret soul abides 
                 the thought on which my sole hope rides: 
                              that God will grant me you.
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Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
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Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
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Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
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