Poem
Elly de Waard
Darkness submerges our days
Darkness submerges our daysin the inconvenience of rain
and complaining; here too it is
November and the trees, although
more southerly, grow bare
or fade in their eternal green.
But it’s not until in the nights
so much more intensely black
due to their lengthening, to the black
of the holes around their stars
that the years narrow
on the sadness and regrets
they repeat: it was not the loving
that was too heavy, but our own
incapacity to bear it was
too great, innocence is insufficient
to acquit us.
Duisternis dompelt onze dagen
Duisternis dompelt onze dagen
in ongemak van regen
en van klagen; ook hier is het
november en de bomen, hoewel
zuidelijker, kalen
of vervalen in hun eeuwig groen.
Maar het is pas in de nachten
die zoveel intenser zwart zijn
door hun lengen, door het zwarte
van de gaten rond hun sterren
dat de jaren zich verengen
om hun droefenis en spijten
te herhalen: niet de liefde
was te zwaar, maar ons eigen
onvermogen was te groot om haar
te dragen, onschuld is onvoldoende
om ons vrij te pleiten.
in ongemak van regen
en van klagen; ook hier is het
november en de bomen, hoewel
zuidelijker, kalen
of vervalen in hun eeuwig groen.
Maar het is pas in de nachten
die zoveel intenser zwart zijn
door hun lengen, door het zwarte
van de gaten rond hun sterren
dat de jaren zich verengen
om hun droefenis en spijten
te herhalen: niet de liefde
was te zwaar, maar ons eigen
onvermogen was te groot om haar
te dragen, onschuld is onvoldoende
om ons vrij te pleiten.
© 1998, De Harmonie
From: Anderling
Publisher: De Harmonie, Amsterdam
From: Anderling
Publisher: De Harmonie, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Elly de Waard
Close
Darkness submerges our days
Darkness submerges our daysin the inconvenience of rain
and complaining; here too it is
November and the trees, although
more southerly, grow bare
or fade in their eternal green.
But it’s not until in the nights
so much more intensely black
due to their lengthening, to the black
of the holes around their stars
that the years narrow
on the sadness and regrets
they repeat: it was not the loving
that was too heavy, but our own
incapacity to bear it was
too great, innocence is insufficient
to acquit us.
From: Anderling
Darkness submerges our days
Darkness submerges our daysin the inconvenience of rain
and complaining; here too it is
November and the trees, although
more southerly, grow bare
or fade in their eternal green.
But it’s not until in the nights
so much more intensely black
due to their lengthening, to the black
of the holes around their stars
that the years narrow
on the sadness and regrets
they repeat: it was not the loving
that was too heavy, but our own
incapacity to bear it was
too great, innocence is insufficient
to acquit us.
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