Poem
Christine D’haen
Daimoon megas
My daimon afflicted my blood by night:the head in your arms, the head of a man,
it is naught. And your days and nights are naught
but a shadow of shadows; all that you do
is naught; and the flesh that you eat, the blood
you drink are naught. Abhor too the spirit!
For the soul that you eat, the vision you drink
are naught. And all that you seek, all you do
are naught. Are less than cinders and foam.
And the mouth on your heart is naught. It is all
as the sand by the sea, and less than the ash
of the fire, and your dreams are less than rubble.
For all that you drink and eat feeds me
alone, and mine is the power, while you
are naught but a shadow, and I he who makes
life deathly and dying a living death.
I alone still you. – My daimon by night
afflicted me bitterly. – The head on my arm,
the head of a man, is naught. Is naught
but a slumbering face, full of coolness and soft.
© Translation: 1982, James S. Holmes
From: Poetry in Flanders Now
Publisher: Flemish P.E.N.-Centre, Brussels, 1982
From: Poetry in Flanders Now
Publisher: Flemish P.E.N.-Centre, Brussels, 1982
daimoon megas (Gr.): ‘mighty demon’. The motto is taken from Plato’s Symposium 202d–e, in which Socrates asks Diotima what love is.
“And what is that, Diotima?”
“A great spirit, Socrates: for the whole of the spiritual is between divine and mortal.”
Daimoon megas
Daimoon megas
Mijn daimoon bedroefde bij nacht mijn bloed:het hoofd in uw armen, het hoofd van een man,
het is niets. En uw dagen en nachten zijn niets
dan een schaduw van schaduwen; al wat gij doet,
het is niets: en het vlees dat gij eet, en het bloed
dat gij drinkt, het is niets. Verfoei ook den geest!
Want de ziel die gij eet, het visioen dat gij drinkt,
het is niets. En zo al wat gij zoekt, wat gij doet,
het is niets. Het is minder dan de as en het schuim.
En de mond op uw hart, het is niets. Als het zand
aan de zee is u alles, en minder dan as
van het vuur, en uw dromen zijn minder dan puin.
Want al wat gij drinkt en verteert, alles voedt
slechts mij, en de macht is aan mij, echter gij,
gij zijt niets dan een schaduw, en ik ben die leven
in doodsstrijd en sterven al levende doet.
Ik slechts verzwijg u. – Mijn daimoon bij nacht
bedroefde mij bitter. – En ’t hoofd in mijn arm,
het hoofd van een man, het is niets. Het is niets
dan een aangezicht, sluimrend, vol koelte en zacht.
© 2002, Erven Christine D\'haen
From: Miroirs. Gedichten vanaf 1946
Publisher: Querido, Amsterdam
From: Miroirs. Gedichten vanaf 1946
Publisher: Querido, Amsterdam
daimoon megas (Gr.): ‘machtige demon’. Het motto komt uit Platoon, Symposium 202d–e, waarin Sokrates aan Diotima vraagt wat de liefde is.
“Wat dan wel, Diotima?”
“Een machtige demon, Sokrates. Al het demonische staat immers tussen het goddelijke en het sterfelijke in.”
Poems
Poems of Christine D’haen
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Daimoon megas
My daimon afflicted my blood by night:the head in your arms, the head of a man,
it is naught. And your days and nights are naught
but a shadow of shadows; all that you do
is naught; and the flesh that you eat, the blood
you drink are naught. Abhor too the spirit!
For the soul that you eat, the vision you drink
are naught. And all that you seek, all you do
are naught. Are less than cinders and foam.
And the mouth on your heart is naught. It is all
as the sand by the sea, and less than the ash
of the fire, and your dreams are less than rubble.
For all that you drink and eat feeds me
alone, and mine is the power, while you
are naught but a shadow, and I he who makes
life deathly and dying a living death.
I alone still you. – My daimon by night
afflicted me bitterly. – The head on my arm,
the head of a man, is naught. Is naught
but a slumbering face, full of coolness and soft.
© 1982, James S. Holmes
From: Poetry in Flanders Now
Publisher: 1982, Flemish P.E.N.-Centre, Brussels
From: Poetry in Flanders Now
Publisher: 1982, Flemish P.E.N.-Centre, Brussels
daimoon megas (Gr.): ‘mighty demon’. The motto is taken from Plato’s Symposium 202d–e, in which Socrates asks Diotima what love is.
“And what is that, Diotima?”
“A great spirit, Socrates: for the whole of the spiritual is between divine and mortal.”
Daimoon megas
My daimon afflicted my blood by night:the head in your arms, the head of a man,
it is naught. And your days and nights are naught
but a shadow of shadows; all that you do
is naught; and the flesh that you eat, the blood
you drink are naught. Abhor too the spirit!
For the soul that you eat, the vision you drink
are naught. And all that you seek, all you do
are naught. Are less than cinders and foam.
And the mouth on your heart is naught. It is all
as the sand by the sea, and less than the ash
of the fire, and your dreams are less than rubble.
For all that you drink and eat feeds me
alone, and mine is the power, while you
are naught but a shadow, and I he who makes
life deathly and dying a living death.
I alone still you. – My daimon by night
afflicted me bitterly. – The head on my arm,
the head of a man, is naught. Is naught
but a slumbering face, full of coolness and soft.
© 1982, James S. Holmes
From: Poetry in Flanders Now
Publisher: 1982, Flemish P.E.N.-Centre, Brussels
From: Poetry in Flanders Now
Publisher: 1982, Flemish P.E.N.-Centre, Brussels
daimoon megas (Gr.): ‘mighty demon’. The motto is taken from Plato’s Symposium 202d–e, in which Socrates asks Diotima what love is.
“And what is that, Diotima?”
“A great spirit, Socrates: for the whole of the spiritual is between divine and mortal.”
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