Poem
Hubert van Herreweghen
Migrating Birds
The summer that has cheated us;the gloomy lesson autumn brings.
Beneath the slow, high cumulus,
I see a black bird fly across,
heading south with beating wings.
The magical flight of the wild geese
and cranes with their clamouring cries
over the land like a golden fleece.
Winter brings shadows, dark without cease,
until a new journey fills up the skies.
Vulnerable heart and senses in pain,
There is no home, in east or west,
where, landed, you’re not restless again.
You must learn to love life, that’s plain,
Or, anyway, to love the rest.
© Translation: 2010, Paul Vincent
Trekvogels
Trekvogels
De zomer die ons heeft bedrogen;o weemoed die de herfst ons leert.
Onder de wolken, trage en hoge,
een zwarte vogel voor mijn ogen
die naar het zuiden keert.
Magische vlucht der wilde ganzen
en kraanvogels met luid gekrijs
over het land vol gouden glansen.
Dan valt de schaduw die de ganse
winter verduistert tot de nieuwe reis.
Ontvankelijk hart, kwetsbare zinnen,
er is geen honk in oost of west
of gij zijt rusteloos, er binnen.
Leert toch het leven te beminnen
of wat er van het leven rest.
© 1977, Hubert van Herreweghen
From: Verzamelde gedichten
Publisher: Orion, Bruges
From: Verzamelde gedichten
Publisher: Orion, Bruges
Poems
Poems of Hubert van Herreweghen
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Migrating Birds
The summer that has cheated us;the gloomy lesson autumn brings.
Beneath the slow, high cumulus,
I see a black bird fly across,
heading south with beating wings.
The magical flight of the wild geese
and cranes with their clamouring cries
over the land like a golden fleece.
Winter brings shadows, dark without cease,
until a new journey fills up the skies.
Vulnerable heart and senses in pain,
There is no home, in east or west,
where, landed, you’re not restless again.
You must learn to love life, that’s plain,
Or, anyway, to love the rest.
© 2010, Paul Vincent
From: Verzamelde gedichten
From: Verzamelde gedichten
Migrating Birds
The summer that has cheated us;the gloomy lesson autumn brings.
Beneath the slow, high cumulus,
I see a black bird fly across,
heading south with beating wings.
The magical flight of the wild geese
and cranes with their clamouring cries
over the land like a golden fleece.
Winter brings shadows, dark without cease,
until a new journey fills up the skies.
Vulnerable heart and senses in pain,
There is no home, in east or west,
where, landed, you’re not restless again.
You must learn to love life, that’s plain,
Or, anyway, to love the rest.
© 2010, Paul Vincent
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