Poetry International Poetry International
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.

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.
Close

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.

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.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère